


The Lake House

by nerdydemonlover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Canonical Character Death, Infidelity, M/M, Magic and Science, Slow Build, but since it's supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdydemonlover/pseuds/nerdydemonlover
Summary: Dean finds an internship at a 500 year old castle that has been transplanted brick-by-brick to the United States from its home in Spain. He's only supposed to be there for the summer to finish his thesis and go home, but he finds the journals of the original owner in a desk and begins to read. On a whim, Dean decides to write a letter back to to the author, Castiel de la Mancha, a man who has been deceased for 500 years. But then he reads the next journal entry, and apparently the barriers of time and space are not as solid as he thinks when it comes to an old desk inside the master's chambers.Idea based on movie "The Lake House"





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester wandered through the hallways of Castle Novak. He snorted to himself when he said the name in his head. “Castle Novak”, as if castles were remotely commonplace in the wilds of Rhode Island. Not that Castle Novak was originally from Rhode Island. It was originally built in the Andalusian region of Spain by the Vizconde Castiel de la Mancha in the 16th century near the sea-side city of Almería as a wedding gift to his new bride. The bride was unfortunately killed in a devastating earthquake that rocked Almería not long after they were married, leveling a great portion of the city. The castle just to the north had been relatively untouched, and there the Vizconde shut himself away, continuing to build for the woman that would never return until he took his own life a year later—at least according to the legend. The Castle Novak was now in Rhode Island due to some very determined descendants removing the castle from its home in Andalusia, only to rebuild it brick by brick in its original condition on Aquidneck Island. 

Dean really didn’t care about most of that, well he did—after all his degree was in art history and this place was dripping with it. He was, as Indiana Jones put it, “Here to study the tapestries.” 500 year old castles generally had one thing in common and that was tapestries, and unless he wanted to spend ten to fifteen hours in a flying tube of death to go to Europe, Castle Novak was his best opportunity for his thesis research here in the states. His brother’s girlfriend Sarah had helped with finding an internship for the summer, and this was his baby. 

A fussy, middle-aged balding man came scurrying up to him, much like a royal functionary would have at court, but Dean managed to hold in his smirk. He needed a good impression. The perfunctory held out a sweaty hand to shake. “You must be Dean Winchester. Ms. Blake has told us all about your work. Happy you could join us for the summer. I’m Zachariah Alder, I keep this place running.”

The man had turned from his (rather limp) handshake to walk beside him at a much brisker pace than Dean had been enjoying, pointing out this extravagant detail or that, as if they belong to him. Of course, Sarah had briefed Dean on who everyone was and their relationships to the elusive Novaks, Zachariah Adler was just another inflated ego that he had to answer to while he worked on his thesis. 

“And there is the man himself.” Dean had barely noticed they had come to the end of the gallery when he found himself staring at an overlarge painting of the Vizconde Castiel de la Mancha. Trim, with windswept almost black hair, and piercing blue eyes was a portrait of the most handsome man Dean had laid eyes on in a while. 

He let out a low whistle, “That’s an amazing painting.”

Alder snickered to himself, placing a hand at his chest, “Well, the Vizconde did expect the best out of everyone.” 

_Lord what a pompous jerk._ Dean thought. _As if he actually knew the guy. He’s been dead for 500 years._

“Of course, the stunning likeness does lead to rumors, I’m sure you’ll hear the lot of them before your term is up.”

Dean’s interest was finally piqued, “Rumors?”

A wave of his hand dismissed him, “That the Vizconde haunts the castle, of course.”

_Well, that’s a ghost I wouldn’t mind meeting at night._ Dean took one last look at the portrait before they moved on, Alder’s verbal diarrhea starting again, and still he had not shown him a single tapestry.

Dean stumbled into the kitchen earlier than he had intended to the following morning. He wouldn’t admit it, but he had been certain that he had felt a presence the previous night in the great hall as he stood near the portrait of the Vizconde. It had only been for a few moments, but it had been intense, and then the lights in the hall had flickered and the temperature dropped about ten degrees as he stood there. His old college friends, Harry and Ed, would say that was the tell-tale signs of a haunting. He thought it was the tell-tale signs of a suggestion from the day before and an over active imagination. Missouri Mosely was already in the kitchen pouring herself a cup of coffee when he walked in. She was head of the household staff, and he liked the woman immediately upon meeting her. She had something of a mother hen quality about her, but he could tell she wouldn’t be afraid to smack him upside the head if she thought he was out of line. An excellent combination. 

“Morning, Missouri.” He grumbled as he took his first sip. So good. 

“Morning, Dean.” She put down her cup and touched his face. “You’re pale as a sheet, boy. You feeling okay?” 

He squirmed away from her touch, ducking his face, “Fine ma’am. Didn’t sleep well, s’all.”

She pursed her lips. “Don’t you ‘fine’ me. I raised two boys and I know ‘fine’. Something happened, didn’t it?”

“I—I’m not sure.” He scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he stared into his cup, unblinking. “It was just my imagination, I guess. I never really believed in ghosts. Then, yesterday, Mr. Alder mentioned that some people thought the joint was haunted and I spooked myself in the great hall.”

Missouri laughed at him, “Boy, it doesn’t matter if you believe in them or not, because we have one.”

“I was just imagining things, though. Lights flicker in old houses, and they’re drafty as fu—as anything.” He amended as he saw her stern look. 

“I’m not saying that you’re not right about those things, either, Dean. What I do know is that Mr. Novak had everything rewired new when the castle was rebuilt here. They also took the opportunity to seal up cracks and make any repairs, so this old house is not drafty as all get out. Now, tell me. Did you see anything?”

“No?” Dean didn’t want to tell her that it felt as if someone was standing next to him. 

“Is that a question? You felt something though, didn’t you, boy?” 

He dropped his head and nodded. 

“Were you by _his_ painting?”

“How did you—?”

She waved him down, “Come off it, boy. I know this place like the back of my hand. You don’t think I don’t know where he’s most likely to pop up at. He was probably visiting Anna’s picture.”

Dean remembered seeing a smaller portrait hanging a few yards down from where he had been standing, it had been labeled as “Vizcondesa Anna de la Mancha, né Motril”. A willowy woman with striking red hair and large brown eyes. “That was his wife, right? The one that was killed in the earthquake?”

Missouri hummed in agreement. “Torn down half the city, most of it never recovered. I guess you could say the same about Castiel. It was the next year he killed himself out of grief and sadness.”

Dean felt punched in the gut at the words. He had loved and lost before. Hell, when Lisa and him broke up he had gone on a three-day drinking bender before Sammy and Benny had rescued him from himself. But maybe it was that this man’s love had been taken from him so quickly and tragically, that he could not face it. Dean just could not comprehend how much the man would have been grieving and his own heart hurt for it. 

He picked up his mug of now lukewarm coffee and drained it. “I’m going to see if I can’t get some work done. Didn’t you say there was paperwork on some of the artwork somewhere?” He thumbed behind him towards the door as he half stood from the stool.

“There’s a desk in the master’s bedroom at the top of the stairs. No one uses that bedroom now, so feel free to go in and find what you need. Should be papers and ledgers in there.”

“Great, thanks Missouri.”

The refrained from running out of the room, but only just barely. All the talk of ghosts was putting him on edge, what if he really did come in contact with one last night? He shook his head to clear it from silly thoughts and took up the stairs two at a time.

The master’s chambers were huge, it contained a sitting room as well as a bedroom, plus a dressing room. Modern conveniences had been added at some point and there was even a bathroom in the dressing room area. All tastefully decorated in blues and greens, it felt like it would be cool and soothing in the room, even in the height of summer. The desk was against the far wall, next to a large window and seemed to be made of a multitude of small doors. He supposed that if the writing surface was folded up, the whole thing would look like a steamer trunk, but open as it was—it was beautiful. Small drawers and nooks covered the face of it. He sat down and began the process of hunting for what he needed. Missouri had been right, there were billets of sale and journals in the desk documenting many items like the tapestries, but he felt that he hadn’t found exactly what he needed and was still looking. It wasn’t until he reached deep into one of the nooks that he tripped a latch, and what had appeared to be an ornamental panel only, dropped open and revealed a hidden compartment with several journals inside. He flipped open the first one. The thanked every god he could think of that he had minored in Spanish.

_7 April 1521 _

_The wedding is in three weeks and I am a nervous wreck. Anna tells me there is nothing to be worried about, and since she shares my shame, she is someone I should listen to. After being discovered by my uncle Michael with Baltazar, I am all alone here. Baltazar has long returned to his home in England, banished from my home by my uncle who holds my purse until I marry. There is no one save Anna that I can share my feelings with, except placing them in this journal and secreting it away. How can my uncle claim that a man loving another man is against God’s plan if God himself made me this way? I did not choose who I love, but it was never a woman. Anna laments the same, for she longs for the embrace of another woman. She has even less freedom than I do and would potentially be forced into a marriage not of her own choosing if we had not come up with her daring idea. This mockery of a marriage was her plan and I agreed for I felt it to be the solution for many an evil. My uncle Michael would have to relinquish the fortune to me upon my marriage, Anna would be safe from unwanted pairing off. Eyes would be off us and we would be free to seek dalliances where we found them. I, however, do not think it will be as easy as she thinks it will be. _

Dean took a deep breath as he lifted his head from the journal. This one entry was already more intriguing than an episode of Dr. Sexy. No, it was like one of those telenovelas that Uncle Bobby watched and claims he doesn’t. He gathered up the journals, plus the papers and books that he actually came in for, returned the panel to its original closed and hidden position, and scurried from the room to his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean starts to make friends around town

The following day, Dean holed himself up in his room, ostensively to work on tracing the origins of the tapestry in the west wing; however, that had taken him about an hour and a half while the rest of the day had spent pouring through the journal of a man dead for 500 years. He decided to start at the beginning of the first tome that was hidden away. 

_20 October 1519_

_How great and joyous this day! Not only has my overbearing uncle Michael returned to Seville for these next two months, I am told by my builders that the home that I have built for my love is near its completion. Michael does not like that I do not seem to have any inclination to marry, and as he holds the executorship of my father’s estate until such time as I take a wife or turn 30, he has seen it necessary to make my life miserable until I do one or the other. It is only four short years until I reach majority and I can wrest my father’s legacy from his cold hands. The only thing he has indulged me in is this ridiculous castle that I have decided to erect to honor the love of my life, Baltazar Milton. My uncle would be outraged and have Baltazar forcibly taken back to England if he finds out, but he suspects nothing. _

_My childhood friend, Anna de Serrano, will be arriving next week as well. She too is feeling the burden of being a rich man’s child, bereft of the choices a person of more modest means would have in whom they marry. Her father is heavily encouraging a match between herself and Uriel Dolgen, a large brute of a man that unhappily carries a large inheritance. She has managed to stand him off for a few months, but I don’t know how much longer she can reasonably expect to remain an old maid. She is beautiful, with copper hair and doe eyes, and as a young man I visited the estate where she lived as a child often. I think our fathers often hoped that our families would be joined in matrimony, but I have no wish to marry Anna, nor any other woman! I witnessed a most private moment between Anna and her maid servant, Hannah, one that leads me to suspect that I am not the only one here with secrets._

__

__

_I will attempt to secure her confidence with me about it, perhaps share my own happiness as an offering of understanding. Alas, this journal, and Baltazar, are the only things that have hold of my secrets and I wish there would be a way to someday live my life as I wish to live it, with the man I love._

Dean closed the book and placed it on the table with a sigh. To be bisexual in the 21st century was hard enough, too often dismissed by people as someone that can’t make up their mind—that’s if they are seen at all. But at least, if he met a man he wanted to settle down with, maybe marry, he could do that. Sure, there were still backwards people everywhere and sometimes you get harassed, threatened, whatever, but then that’s why he was glad his dad had trained Sammy and him like little soldiers in his non-existent war. Some good had come from it, even if it was only the occasional beatdown of an intolerant douchebag. He could not imagine life as a gay man in the 16th century, in a heavily catholic country like Spain, a man like Castiel de la Mancha would be at best ostracized, and at worst—ugh, he shuddered and didn’t want to think of it. 

He turned his attention back to the tapestry he was supposed to be studying. Revealing that Castiel de la Mancha was homosexual actually seemed to reconcile some of the mysteries of the work of art. The unicorn was so common and popular in tapestries to symbolize purity—either spiritual or emotional, sometimes even medicinal. In the large example that hung in the western wing of the castle, the tapestry had _two_ unicorns, roped together with a golden chain. The chain was common in symbolizing devotion to a lover, and the horns of the beasts now took on a rather phallic connotation. Now, noticeably missing was the absence of certain fruits associated with fertility, such as pomegranates, since obviously two men would not need them.

Dean felt the treads of excitement tangle through him as he realized that he had stumbled onto the near perfect object to examine for his thesis project and the use of symbolism, both secular and religious, in the tapestries of medieval Europe. His phone blared out _Heat of the Moment_. Sammy calling. 

“’Sup Sammy?”

“It’s Sam,” Dean could feel the bitchface through the phone, but his brother continued. “I just wanted to see how you were settling in up there? Rhode Island as boring as you though it would be?”

Dean chuckled. “Truth be told, I haven’t really gone out much since I got up here. There’s just so much research to do, and so little time.”

“Who would have though you would wind up doing a job that required you to do research?” he heard Sam snort as he laughed. 

“Hey, I take back every rotten thing I said about it. I tell you, I’m fascinated. I found some journals from when the castle was actually being built, written by de la Mancha himself. I’m going to see if it says anything about commissioning the tapestries, but just from what I’ve read already, it’s turned so many of my preconceived notions regarding this work around. I think I may really have something here.”

He eventually let his brother off the phone, only after getting to talk to the kid’s fiancé and thanking her again for getting the connection to make this internship. It was nearing evening and he decided to grab a tray of food from the kitchen and return to read more passages in the journals. 

_16 December 1519_

_The world has gone grey for the season again. Baltazar has returned to his home for Christmas, not to return until after the new year has begun. Perhaps it is for the best as uncle Michael has arrived ahead of the storm that threatened to fall and wash away my lover’s footsteps. Great Gods am I become maudlin! I must not complain, two uninterrupted months in his company preceded this and that is more than we had managed in our entire friendship. Friendship, what too small a word is this, and yet lover seems too pedestrian as well. _

_Anna has remained and has set no date for returning home yet. I fear most of that is my fault as well. I did succeed in gaining her trust and I was right! Hannah and herself are far more than maid and mistress, but in love as well. Oh what happy days we spent these months together, Baltazar and myself, Anna and Hannah. I suppose it serves another purpose as well, if people see Anna and myself investing so much time and energy into each other, they will assume that she and I are happily courting. I hate that we must barricade each other from the eyes of society, but we must each do what we have to. _

_28 December 1519_

_Christmas has come and left and left me feeling empty once again. What should have been a day reflecting on the gifts that the Lord God bestowed on us with everlasting salvation, uncle Michael has used to make me feel less than worthy of such gifts. It is not enough that the world believes that Anna and I are intended for each other, though we are not! Michael has threatened the very bedrock of my life, he wishes me to make an announcement of such an arrangement once Epiphany has passed. He says that ‘the light of our love will be a beacon against the bitter darkness of the cold outside’. I doubt that anyone could live up to that standard. That does not mention that it would betray the actual love of my life, Baltazar!_

__

__

_I tear my hair in frustration, but Anna has a solution. She is so clever, I could not survive without my darling friend. She proposes a public disagreement. I am shocked! I would endeavor to not have a public disagreement with a loved one when the disagreement was real, but to force a scene for the sake of saving each other’s reputation (by scandalizing it) was something I never would have thought of myself. I fear it is a sound solution, however. A disagreement in public, followed by her discharging herself from my company for a short amount of time, would set the gossips wagging. But that sort of scandal is commonplace, and as Anna said, ‘Most woman’s reputations benefit from a small amount of the right sort of scandal.’ Not that I would know, not being a woman, nor interested in women in that capacity myself. Alas, I fear it is too much for my head right now and I must lie down as I told uncle I was to begin with. _

Dean forced himself to put the journal down and away, he began to feel guilty that he was intruding on another person’s private thoughts. It was a beautiful day outside with the sun shining, perhaps it would be a good day to take baby for a drive, clear his own thoughts. _That’s it. I’m just getting wrapped up in this because I don’t have friends here and I’m bored._

The drive into Newport was not long, although it was Friday there seemed to be a lot of people heading to Bowen’s wharf—the location Missouri had directed him to for wandering around, window shopping, and just seeing the town. He finally found a parking sport for baby that was wide enough for him not to worry about door dings, after all, it would be the entire summer before he could get back to Bobby’s and grind any dents out. The salty air from the ocean filled his lungs. Dean had only been to the Atlantic ocean once or twice, truth be told, the enormity of it, the vast, endless ocean did not give him the sense of peace that it did to some others. For him, that was found on the open road. There was nothing that compared to a summer drive with the windows down, tunes blaring, and nothing but miles of uninterrupted road before him. He began to itch for a drive, maybe he would go somewhere this weekend, but for now he wanted to get to know the town that he was in. 

The wharf itself was interesting to see, all the wood buildings weathered to a grey brown. Some paint here and there to liven them up, and antique light posts to drive out the darkness. Shops had filled many of the buildings, everything from clothing to artists in residence. He stopped and bought some crab cakes from a pop up and walked from window to window as he munched. Bright colors caught his eyes, a sign in a window that looked like one of the “POW”s from the old Batman series with Adam West. He chuckled when he saw the name of the shop, “The Batcave”. It appeared to be a comic book and gaming store, his type of place exactly. He polished off the rest of his snack and tossed his paper napkins in the trash after carefully wiping his hands clean, there was no way that he was ruining something accidentally by getting it greasy from his snack. The door tinkled as it opened, an actual bell hung above the door, not an automated chime like most store nowadays. 

A bouncy redhead appeared in front of him, startling him. “Hi, welcome to the Batcave!”

He stepped to the side slightly to adjust his breathing, “Hey.”

The woman grinned and rocked back on her heels. “Sorry about that. We’ve only just opened a few days ago. Haven’t had too many customers yet.” He barely caught the grumble “or any.” Her smile drooped for a second and then it was back. 

Dean grinned in response. “Well, I only just got into town myself. I’m Dean, by the way. I’m working at Castle Novak for the summer.”

“Charlie Bradbury, at your service.” She held out her hand to shake with a mock-stern expression on her face. As soon as he grabbed it to shake, she grabbed hold. “Who would win in a fight, Sarah Connor or Ellen Ripley?”

Dean’s grin nearly split his face, “Do you mean original Terminator Sarah Connor or T2? Because I don’t think original Terminator would be a fair fight.”

She let go of his hand and turned to walk farther into the store. “True that.” She called over her shoulder. She hopped onto the front counter and sat on it. “What can I do ya for, Dean?”

Dean poked over to the rows of comic books, shrugging his shoulders. “Like I said, I’m new in town, going a little stir-crazy working at the castle. And god if that isn’t weird to say.”

Charlies snorted. “You should have heard the city council when the Novaks first proposed it. I mean, you’d think with all the like old, old money there would already be a castle or two because, let’s face it—rich people can be weird, but there wasn’t, and it wasn’t in keeping with the historical estates of the island.”

“I guess money talks.” He mumbled. 

“You got that right, and the Novaks are swimming in it. Like they have known about things before they happen, right on the forefront of things for—I don’t know, decades, centuries, even. It’s crazy. If I didn’t know better I’d say time travel, or psychics.”

“You seem to know a lot about them.” 

Charlie nodded. “Gabe and Jimmy are friends of mine. If you hang out here, I’m sure you’ll meet Gabe soon enough. Jimmy, you won’t meet until end of summer probably, he’s out of town, plus kind of a loner. I wasn’t really sure what to think of him at first.”

“What do you mean?” He held his hand up to stop her immediately, “Wait no, I don’t want to know. Technically, I think he’s my boss, so I’d rather not be caught gossiping about him the first week.”

Charlie waved him off. “Pfft, I’m not saying anything bad, and you’re not going to repeat anything I say, right” she pointed a stern finger at him. He shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender. She hopped off the counter, clapping the dust off them. “You ever meet someone and feel like they were born in the wrong time? That’s Jimmy. I mean, guys a tech genius, but I think he would be more comfortable just living up in the big house, writing letters by hand, riding his horses, that sort of thing. You know, like Jane Austin weird.”

_Or Castiel de la Mancha weird_ he thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean sat in bed that night, a candle to light is reading rather than the electric lights that had been wired into the house. 

_24 January 1520_ Dean’s breath hitched when he saw that the date was on his birthday

_Felt unusually happy today. Possibly because Baltazar’s letter announcing his return in two weeks came yesterday, I always fear that each meeting will be our last. But, also that I received a message from dear Anna. Our make-believe public fight went well, three days after the New Year, but it broke my heart to see my dearest friend look that hurt and upset with me even if I knew in my heart it was not true. I have agonized over the disagreement, worried that something may have been said that really hurt my beloved friend, but all is well. A messenger came today with a letter from her! She and Hannah have returned to her home in Motril, to recover from the ‘injury to her pride’. She made sure to tell me that her pride was much happier now that Uriel Dolgen has ceased his advances towards her, for a time at least. I fear that a stubborn man like him may resume once any worry of a broken heart would be gone. Not that Mister Dolgen would have mind of her heart, but Anna’s father would, at least. She is completely happy where she is, although she must pretend to be forlorn and somewhat heartsick for the sake of appearances. _

_Now, to Baltazar. He claims that in London, he was befriended by a man who fits the general description of my uncle, however that cannot be possible, since uncle Michael is in Seville again. He returned home after Anna left, once Epiphany was over, claiming that he had business that could not be sorted without his presence. At least that is what he told me. Could it be possible that my uncle does know of Baltazar and mine affair and is looking for proof. No, no, that is not possible! He would have lorded it over me during his visit. The inquisition gave small minded men like Michael glimpses of what power could do. Here in Almería, there were no charges of sodomy for consenting adults (though the men mentioned are now outcasts). The only charges of that was against a man who used his wealth to coerce young boys against their wills. I don’t think much of the town was against that man’s execution. Still, we must be careful until my thirtieth birthday, 24 July 1523. That is when I gain control over Michael, whether I marry or not. That is the date of my freedom._

Dean frowned, something niggled at his brain regarding the date. He got up and checked his notes that he had made regarding Castiel. Death by apparent suicide September 29, 1523. Why would he have killed himself only two months after he turned thirty, and he had completed both of the options to receive his inheritance? Clearly, there was much more to be gleaned from these journals. He looked at the clock and realized that his reading had taken him well past midnight and he had agreed to go to The Batcave for a tabletop session the following day with Charlie and a couple of her friends. He marked the journal with its ribbon and went to bed.

The door to The Batcave tinkled as he opened it. There were already a small group of people inside milling around. Charlie popped up next to him, starting him again, and hug bombed him. 

“Jeez, red! You have to stop doing that!” he groused as he hugged her back. 

“Uh, stop my awesome ninja skills? What’s your damage?” she grabbed his hand and led him to the group. “Everyone, this is my new bestie, Dean.”

Dean held up an awkward hand to wave at the crowd around him. There was a tall, lanky fellow who seemed like he might be able to best Charlie in the friendliness department named Garth. A short and snarky brunette named Meg that he kinda hated on sight, kinda loved that there was someone he could bite at, he was sure they would actually get along like a house on fire. A golden-haired man that was quite a bit shorter than him with his arm around a woman that looked like an Indian goddess, Charlie introduced them as Gabriel and his girlfriend, Kali. He had to bite his tongue not to ask if she was named after the Hindu goddess of time, and destroyer of demons. Might not be good first-impression conversation. 

He absently pulled the leather-bound journal from his jacket pocket as he sat, not wanting it to fall on the floor, and sat it beside him as they all sat for a round of Catan. Gabriel picked it up and opened it before he could stop him. “Hey! Don’t—!”

Gabriel waved the book around, “No worries, Dean-o. I can’t read Spanish anyways. Sorry about that.” He handed the journal back. 

Dean felt guilty as he grabbed the book back, especially since Gabriel was _Gabriel Novak_ and therefore had more right to the journals than he did. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “No, it’s just really old, and I shouldn’t have brought it with me, but I can’t seem to stop reading it. It’s part of the research I’m doing up at your place.”

Gabriel held out his hand gently, “Is this one of the books from the library?”

A flush colored Dean’s cheeks, “No, um, when Missouri, um Mrs. Moseley sent me to Cast—Mr. de la Mancha’s chambers to retrieve some documents regarding the tapestries, I found these journals hidden in the desk. I believe they were his original journals from the time the castle was built. I’m hoping to find something about the tapestries in them but even if I don’t find anything directly, the information has changed the direction of my thesis.”  


Gabriel was thumbing over the pages as Kali looked over his shoulder, she placed a hand down to hold a page open and read aloud. “Baltazar has arrived and my heart is full again!” she looked up at Dean, “Who’s Baltazar?”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a moment before he answered. “Um, turns out that _Baltazar_ was the lover that the castle was built for. Castiel was, um, he was gay.”

He gazed out at the table as they sat in silence, until Charlie grabbed the hand of the lithe blonde next to her and kissed her. “Welcome to the club, Castiel!” Charlie raised her can of Coke in a toast to the non-existent man. 

Gabriel chuckled, “Were you worried that I might be offended that my great-great-whatever uncle was gay?”

Dean shrugged, “Families are weird, man. Especially if it changes what you think you know about them.” He tried not to think about his father and his fights after being caught with a boy in high school. 

Gabriel nudged him, “You?”

“Proud bi-sexual here. Not that it want over well with all the fam.” 

“Well, hot damn!” Gabriel exclaimed. “And like you said, family can suck sometimes, that’s why we don’t really hang around with our cousin Zachariah. Pompous ass, now there’s someone you might not let that slip to. He’s all about the image of Castle Novak. I swear if he wasn’t our cousin, I would have fired him years ago.”

Dean held up a hand, “Wait, Alder’s your cousin?”

Gabriel let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes. You know, he wasn’t always a great big bag of dicks either. When we were younger, we got along fine. Then he went off to school and surrounded himself with douchebags or something because he was never the same. And for some reason, Jimmy thinks that he needed to be in that position. And Jimmy is the one with the intuition, so I always listen to Jimmy’s advice.”

Kali rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I said I listen. I didn’t say I always do it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get very interesting for Dean. Very _not_-natural

Dean settled back into his room later that evening. They never did get to play the Settlers of Catan, instead discussing the history of what he had discovered so far from reading the journals. Gabriel seemed almost hurt that he had never found the journals himself, “As a full-on trickster, I should have found the secret compartment! I mean that’s the sort of stuff I do.” But after he realized that he would never have been able to read them himself, as they were written in Spanish, he relented to Kali that it was perhaps for the best—as the best Spanish speaker in the family was the awful Zach, and he would have not taken the news of Castiel’s homosexuality well. 

Gabriel even thought that the man might lie to cover up the ‘scandal’ of it. But now he had full permission of one of the owners, as well as word that Jimmy would be in full agreement if he was here, to read the journals and use any info he found in his thesis. He felt like a forty-pound weight was lifted from his chest. 

He worked on his research for the rest of the evening, only when it was late he remembered that he had seen another possible billing document in the desk the last time he looked and resolved to trudge up there and look for it. The hallways were darkened for the night as he stumbled up the stairs, glad that no one slept in the master chamber and he could access it whenever he needed it. The desk’s writing surface was down, like he had found it originally, and he thought what it might be like to sit at the desk, gazing out the window and write in the journal your most secret thoughts. He dismissed it quickly and found the paper he was looking for. As he turned to leave, he noticed several sheaves of empty, loose paper in the desk. He wasn’t sure why, but he took those as well. 

As he lay in bed that night, he thought to himself, _What kind of ink would they have used back then?_ Unfortunately for Dean, Google and on-line shopping existed and that night an order for a dip-pen and some iron-gall ink was placed. 

With the week as busy as it was, and there was actual research for his project to be made, very little reading in the journal was done and he had completely forgot about his purchase when a box from an online retailer arrived for him the following Friday. His only readings were at night, right before bed and the last several entries had all been happy, glowing sap of true love. Whatever, he was just happy that his friend was happy. _Did I just think of him as my friend? But that’s impossible._ He shook his head from the thought, there had been flickers of danger up ahead, and Dean knew from the one entry he had read in the middle that Baltazar and him are parted at some point, and after all, he does marry Anna. 

_16 March 1520_

_I am distraught and do not know what action to take! This morning, in the drawing room, Baltazar caught glimpse of the portrait of my father and his brothers, my uncles Michael and Lucien. Michael is the man that befriended Baltazar in London! Michael knows that Baltazar spends much time here. We had been great friends from our time studying together, so he had not thought it odd before that Baltazar would make a home for himself here in Almería, after admiring the country for so long and so vocally. It was only after Baltazar began visiting the castle that our affair began. Hah! We were both so timid in those days, never wanting to make a move that would be taken wrong if the feelings were not returned. Oh, how I long for a day that I could live in peace and happiness with the man I love, but that is too much to ask for. All I can do is build the house for us, the Castle Novak—there is a Hungarian woman who lives here and tries to teach me the language. Novak means ‘New Man’. I think it fitting that the castle shall be named for that for soon I will be a new man myself. _

Dean sat the book down on his nightstand and looked over to his desk where he was working on the thesis project. There was the pen and ink and several pieces of paper from the antique desk. He scrubbed a hand down his face and stood. He readied the ink and pen, only to realize that he had a finite amount of paper that was from the desk, and he had never actually used a pen like this before, he wanted a note to be legible. Well, it was his handwriting, legible-ish.

He practiced several lines in his own notebook, writing out words that came to mind, and if the words seemed to be Castiel de la Mancha quite often, no one was the wiser. He finally felt that he was ready. 

He paused his hand over the blank parchment, if nothing else, the permanence of the ink made him think carefully about what he wanted to say, the words he wanted to use. 

_Castiel, _

_You do not know me. I cannot tell you how or why, but I have found and read your journals. Do not worry, your secret is safe in my hands. I feel the same as you and have found a like spirit in reading. The world is changing, I know you can see that, but sometimes it is hard to know as well. Particularly when your personal world does not change much. I wish both of us had the blessings of a family that all loved us unconditionally. But rest assured, there will come a time when two men, or two women, can live together peacefully just as a man and wife can. It may not be within your lifetime, but the time will come. Do not despair, Castiel, you are not alone.  
\--D_

He hesitated about signing his name or not, but if the letter were to be found, he would feel like an idiot. He soothed himself by just using the single initial ‘D’ to sign it before setting it aside to dry. He put slippers on his feet, grabbed the letter gingerly, and stole upstairs in the quiet dark of the night to place the note in the secret compartment of the desk, where he had found the journals. That night, he dreamed of a blue eyed, black haired man, lithe and toned, naked beside him, who whispered loving words into his ears as he slept. 

As it was Saturday again, he ended up at Charlie’s, again. 

“I think I’m going crazy, Charlie.” He announced by way of greeting. 

For once, instead of her popping up next to or behind him, she was hunched over a box of items that had just arrived, unpacking them. She started laughing as she pulled out a box that had a Funko pop figurine of Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park. He was lying back, with his shirt open and chest out, just like the movie. “Look at this shit!” she held it up and out into his face. “Look!”

“Charlie!” Dean whined. He hated whining. 

“You’re not going crazy.”

“I had a dream about him.”

“About who?” she puttered around him as she talked, finding the best shelf space for the new merchandise. 

“Castiel.” He mumbled, picking at his fingernails. 

She stepped off the step stool she had been on and turned to him, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Come again?”

Dean puffed. “I had a dream about Castiel de la Mancha. Okay?”

“Dude, how do you even know what he looks like?” she squinted up at him. 

“There’s a gigantic painting of him in the great hall. Let me tell you, dude is just my type, too. Ugg, maybe I just need to get laid.”

“That might help some of your frustration, young padawan. Was it a good dream?”

Dean threw his hands into the air, “It was hardly anything, just a dream about laying together in the enormous bed in the master’s chambers, which is _his bedroom,_ by the way. Just the weight of someone next to me in bed, the heat from their body against mine, talking real low to each other because if you talk too loud it would feel like you’d break the spell you’ve created. You know.”

Charlie groaned as she heaved herself onto the front counter to sit as she usually did. “That’s the best time.”

“I know right. See, I’m going crazy.”

“No, you just miss that intimacy.”

“So you’re saying I should get laid.” He rested his backside against the counter next to her.

“Actually, no.” She side-eyed him until he rolled his hands telling her to ‘go on’. “I do think you should go on a date, though.”

“Ugh, Charlie, no.” he pushed himself off the counter and spun around. “Do I have to list all the reasons why getting involved with someone right now is a bad idea?”

Charlie ticked off her finger, “You just broke up with someone before you left Kansas and even though you weren’t that serious—it still sucked, and you don’t do rebound things. You’re only here for the summer. You’re emotionally attached to a man that died 500 years ago—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he held his hands up to stop her from talking. “I am not emotionally attached to Castiel.”

She glared at him. “Why are you here than? Mister I’m-Losing-my-Mind.”

“I am just spending too much time reading these journals and it sucked me in, alright. Just like you and those stupid _Unnatural_ books.”

“Do not knock my love of my boys and their djinn boyfriend.” She poked a finger into his chest. A surprisingly bony finger. 

He rubbed his chest where she poked it. “Oww, red. Don’t poke me in the chest.”

“Deeean”

“Chaaarlie.”

“Fine, can we talk about something else, then.”

“Okay, fine. Did I tell you that Gilda is going to move in with me?” Charlie’s eyes lit up at the mention of her girlfriend of the past 4 months. 

Dean’s smile was tight as he grinned at his friend, trying to ignore the pit that had opened up in his stomach. “That’s fantastic, red.”

She ran a hand along his arm and gave him a small smile in return, “Are you going to be okay?”

He waved her off with a smirk and a wink, “Me, I’m always okay. Don’t you worry about me.”

He punched the pillow on his bed to attempt to make it more comfortable, but the lumpiness remained. He turned to his side, eyes staring out, unable to sleep. The journal sat on the nightstand, where he had left it the night before, right after his stupid idea with the letter. It mocked him, calling to him to read more. Finally he gave up and switched on the light, opening to the next entry. 

_27 March 1520_

_I have been discovered! But by whom, I know not, and for now my secrets appear to be safe, at least from uncle Michael. I am rambling, perhaps I should tell in detail the events of what happened. Just a week past, I wrote in despair in this journal, uncle Michael is close to discovering the truth between Baltazar and myself. As per my usual, I locked this journal in my writing desk, a desk that I alone possess the key to, and in a compartment that also is secret as well. I had been too presumptuous to assume that a determined person could not find the secret out, perhaps. None of that matters, because a few days after that entry, I sat down to write another entry and found a note atop my journal. _

_Although, or perhaps because it is only signed with an initial, I have no earthy idea who the note came from. It has buoyed my spirits immeasurably, and I cannot explain why. The man, I only assume it is a man, it could as easily be a female maid or some such that has access to my chambers, struggles with the same ideals that I do. The idea that I am not alone is so tantalizing, that the world is changing to be something that will accept us. I must not obsess of the mysterious ‘D’ any longer, I find myself examining every man whose name begins with the letter to see if they could possibly be him! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean deals with the unlikely events in a very Dean-like way

Dean closed the journal and forced it away from him, running his hands through his hair. He could feel his heart beating in his chest at what felt like double the rate it should be. _There was no way that it could be possible? Right?_ He let out a laugh that sounded nearly hysterical to his own ears. He picked up the journal and read through the lines again, _‘the world is changing’_ and_ ‘you are not alone’_, not to mention the fact that Castiel had said the letter was signed only with a ‘D’, just as his had been. _ I’ll just go up there and get the letter from the desk, this is somehow an elaborate prank, he just couldn’t figure out how. Gabe had mentioned he was a trickster, maybe he had somehow found the letter and put in a fake entry. _

He flipped the pages back open again. If someone had placed a fake entry in, it had been on the exact page that he was on after writing the letter, and the handwriting seemed to be the same as the other entries. He shook his head again, there was no other explanation for it. Biting his thumbnail, he crept out of bed and checked the hallway outside his room. As usual this time in the evening, it was empty, and he stole away towards the master’s chambers.

_ _The desk sat just as he had left it the previous visit, hidden compartment closed. He reached into the cubby and tripped the door open. As he already suspected, the note that he had left was missing. He collapsed onto the chair for a moment before closing everything back up and winding his way down to the kitchen to drown his thoughts out in a six-pack or two. _ _

_ _The next morning he still could not wrap his head around what had happened, although that was partially due to the extraordinary hangover from the night before. Beer had graduated to whiskey, then rum and tequila, and then Rufus had showed up with some homemade swill that was most definitely not legal. Blinking hurt, but so far he had managed to keep the contents of his stomach where they were. He brushed his teeth with only minimal gagging and resolved to find toast. _ _

_ _Missouri was busy scrambling eggs when he made his way down to the kitchen and collapsed onto the work island, his head buried in his arms. He barely shifted when a plate of fluffy eggs and toast was slid in front of him. He grunted a thanks. _ _

_ _“Boy, you better sit up and get something in your belly before too much longer. You still got work to do and moping around with a hangover ain’t going to accomplish jack.”_ _

_ _He sat up, stifling the moan and lifted a fork. He set it back down with a clatter, “Can I ask you something, Missouri?”_ _

_ _She sat across from him with a cup of coffee, “Of course, sugar.” She reached out and patted his hand with hers. _ _

_ _“You said…when I first started here…” he stumbled and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand._ _

_ _She cocked her head at him, “What did I say, darlin’?”_ _

_ _He chuckled and ducked his head, “You said there was a ghost here.”_ _

_ _“I did. What is it, darling? You see something?” _ _

_ _“Ah, no, nothing like that.” Dean waved a hand away. “Just sometimes a couple things turn up…not where I left them.” He drifted off the end of the sentence. _ _

_ _“Did you lose something?” _ _

_ _As she looked at him, her eyes wide and unjudgmental, he couldn’t do it. He felt so stupid and gullible for falling for whatever prank that somewhat had pulled on him. He shook his head, “No, I’m sure someone was just messing with me.” He gave a small smile  
to Missouri and stood. “Listen, I have to go. I really have to work on my research.”_ _

_ _“Of course, son.” _ _

_ _

He paced within his room, unsure of what to do next. A sane person would leave everything alone and forget the whole thing. Chalk the whole thing up to a crazy coincidence. However, he had a baby brother genius and had gone through nearly a quarter century of school himself, he was not above a little bit of experimentation. He chuckled to himself, _experimentation is my middle name._ He was slightly disappointed in himself that his inner voice sounded like Austin Powers.  
There was really only one thing that he could do. 

_Castiel, _

__  
_I am pleased that you received my note, I was uncertain that it would get to you. I regret that there is no way for you to respond to my letters directly, except through your journal entries. Again, I assure you that your secrets are safe in my hands, I could no more reveal them than I could become the next king. I will affirm to you that I am male, as well, but I don’t yet dare, however, reveal any more about myself at this time. Not for a lack of trust in you, but this position that I am in is tenuous as well. I would also like to apologize for reading those journals without your permission._

__

_You have such life in you, such capacity for love, I again tell you that I am sorry the world has not caught up to your capacity to love and care for others beyond yourself. This castle that you are building will stand for centuries as a testament to such great love, have no doubt. If it is within my power to write to you again another day, I shall, but until then remember the words I have told you here._

_ \--D_

He stared at the letter as he tipped another few drinks of his beer back, glaring at it as if he could set it on fire with his brain. His frustration with being unable to figure out the joke being played at his expense was beginning to creep into anger. He picked up the journal and scanned the next few pages, without reading. They were all filled with the same cramped, but somewhat flowery handwriting as the rest of the pages and there was no place to slip in an extra journal entry. Once he was sure the ink was dry, he curled it into a roll and walked it upstairs to slip it into the writing desk. Once he placed the letter into the secret compartment and secured everything again, he returned to his room and once more drank the thoughts away. 

_ _

The coffee that he made that morning tasted like ash in his mouth as he waited through the day, busying himself in his research and visiting a local weaver. He was halfway back to the castle when his phone blared _Heat of the Moment_. Sammy. 

_ __ _

_ _“Hey, what’s up, Sammy?” he could hear the face his brother made over the phone._ _

_ _“What are you doing next weekend? Sarah and I were thinking of coming up and seeing you.”_ _

_ _Deans grinned, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. “That’s awesome, yeah, totally good. I can show you around, maybe introduce you to Charlie and a couple other people I’ve met up here.”_ _

_ _“That’s great,” he heard the phone muffle on the other side a moment, voices undistinguishable. “Listen, Sarah wants to make sure we have one night that it’s just us though.”_ _

_ _Dean balked, “Is something wrong?”_ _

_ _“No, no, nothing like that. We just haven’t had a lot of time to see each other lately, what with you going grad school and me switching to law school here instead of California, you know. The fallout with dad.”_ _

_ _“Do not bring dad into this, Sammy.” Dean’s voice hardened. He had spent so many years idolizing his father, yearning for his approval that hardly ever came that he neglected part of himself for years. “Dad and I, we just aren’t going to see eye to eye on a lot of things anymore. It’s not your job to play referee.”_ _

_ _The voice on the other end was silent long enough that he checked to see that the call was still connected, it was. Finally, Sam’s voice sounded very far away. “That actually sounds very healthy of you.”_ _

_ _Dean let out the breath he was holding, “Yeah, well, took me fifteen years to get there.” _ _

_ _“Listen, I’m heading out to class. I’ll text you details later this week.”_ _

_ _“Later, Bitch.”_ _

_ _“Jerk.”_ _

_ _The silence in the car rang in his ears until he pushed a tape into the player, a little Bon Jovi to help his brain relax from the topic of his dad. Against John’s wishes, Dean had followed Sam to California not long after his brother had enrolled at Stanford and settled in himself. Got a job with their not-really uncle Bobby at his garage to pay the bills and since Sam was straightened out and in college, started taking a few community college classes himself. When the guys at the garage taught him Spanish, mainly the curse words, and he picked it up like a duck to water, he added the Spanish classes to his coursework. It wasn’t until the required art history class that he found his love of Spanish art and history, and his major in the field. Santa Clara University might not have been the expected choice for someone like him, but the Jesuits taught him to think for himself. It also introduced him to classmate Sarah Blake, who he then introduced to his gigantor brother and they were now engaged—so he better get something besides the free legal advice he’ll look forward to for the rest of his life. _ _

_ _The castle loomed before him at the end of the winding drive. He still wasn’t sure if it seemed out of place here or not with the large Berkshire style mansions doting the island already, it wasn’t even the largest residence. Here there were some obscenely rich folks, but he had met some regular people her as well as he had settled in—there was Charlie of course, quickly becoming one of his best friends. A local sheriff named Jodi who frequents the same diner he likes and had struck up a conversation the third or fourth time they ended up seated near each other. Jodi had, in turn, introduced him to her best friend, another cop named Donna. Where Jodi was serious and kind of mom-like, Donna was loud and boisterous, unrelentingly cheery. To look at the two of them, he would have thought that Jodi would have killed Donna long ago (and to hear them tell it, she kind of wanted to when they first met) but now they were each other’s rock, sisters. He sent out a group text to the three of them, as well as Garth and Meg, inviting everyone out to meet Sam and Sarah and have drinks Saturday at a place called ‘The Roadhouse’ that was supposed to have the best burgers in the state. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t tried them already. _ _

_ _The sun was dipping behind the trees and he couldn’t stall going back in and looking at the journal any longer. _ _

_ _

_2 April 1520_

_I received another letter placed inside my desk this morning, and I am very cautious. My niece, Hael, and her mother are visiting. A very bright, inquisitive child—she climbed too high up a branch and fell when the too small limb could not support her weight and cracked. Her ankle is twisted and swollen. The doctor came and went yesterday and after much fussing we settled her down in bed and decided to take shifts watching her, as she cannot stand on her leg and needs assistance. The only chamber suitable is mine, so of course she has taken over my bedroom. Her mother slept next to her in the bed, whilst I made myself comfortable as I could on the chaise and settled in, in case my strength was needed. The chaise was positioned in front of the desk, which was closed and locked and empty of strange notes the evening before. I am certain, because I had been using it to write letters to my cousin. _

_How could a man, I know it is a man now, sneak into an occupied bedchamber. Past a mother who is poised to wake the moment she hears a sound of distress from her hurt child, past a rather large piece of furniture with another sleeping person on it, one was pressed against the door of the desk to place a letter inside? Add to that the insistence that you have been and continue to read these journals still although I am certain very few persons have approached the chamber the desk resides in, and none with either the idle time to read these books or the literacy to do so._

_Are you a demon? A ghost, perhaps? The devil himself sent to tempt me? If so, why do I not sense that you wish to do me harm? Although, I suppose, I would not sense that if it was the devil himself, the devil would be charming and reasonable, I suspect. I do not know if I will read any more letters that I find, D. D! perhaps this is the way that you are telling me that you are the Devil!_

Dean sat on his bed, book open in his lap, dumbfounded. That had settled that, he supposed. Somehow, he had managed to cross the boundaries of time and send a letter to a person who lived 500 years ago. He needed to talk to someone about this, but if he told anyone they would think he was crazy. The only person that seemed like they could understand and be smart enough to figure out what was happening was Charlie.

It rang through several times before she picked up, “It better be good, Winchester, we’re about to start the raid.”

_ _He took a deep breath, closed his eyes as he plunged forward, “I wrote a letter to Castiel and he wrote me back.”_ _

_ _Silence on the other end greeted him. “Hold on a minute, I have to log off.” He heard the clattering of keys as she removed herself from the online game. “What do you mean, you wrote a letter to Castiel and he wrote back? Isn’t this the guy that’s been dead for 500 years?”_ _

_ _Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just come over, I’ll show you.”_ _

_ _“I have got to hear this, Dean.”_ _

_ _He tossed the phone onto his desk and went downstairs to wait for her car, a little yellow Gremlin that was barely road worthy. When the headlights finally appeared in the windows, he rushed outside to meet her. “Thank god you’re here, I’ve been dying to talk to someone about this. I thought I was going crazy at first, but I tried it a second time yesterday and it worked!” He knew that his smile was turning manic from the slightly concerned look on her face. He tried to reign himself in. “This is just so…amazing. I don’t know what to call it!” he bounced on the heels of his feet._ _

_ _“Okay, what’s weird that you’re the one that needs to calm down and I’m the skeptic, that’s what’s strange.” She motioned with her hand towards the castle. “Alright, show me what you think happened.”_ _

_ _He grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the great hall and the portrait gallery. “Okay, so I was looking for documents for my thesis and I found this journal in a desk that was in the main bedchamber, Castiel’s chambers, hidden in a secret compartment in a desk. You remember me telling you that, right?”_ _

_ _Charlie nodded, “Yeah, it sort of took over game night. Gabe still hasn’t stopped taking about it.” She turned and pointed to him as if remembering, “And Jimmy Novak, Gabe’s brother, he wants to meet with you when he gets back at the end of the summer.” _ _

_ _“Okay, whatever.” They reached the end of the gallery, where the large painting of Castiel stood. Dean motioned towards it. “So, I told you guys, Castiel was gay and was actually in love with someone named Baltazar, not the woman that he ends up marrying, Anna. That the castle was built for him, right.”_ _

_ _“Dean, I remember all that, when are you going to tell me something I don’t know? Like, I mailed a letter to a dead man!” her voice took on a wheedling note._ _

_ _“Hold on, I just needed you to have a little context.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, so there was an entry that I read last week or so about Castiel worrying that his uncle suspected the affair but didn’t know for sure. Very angsty, soap opera-ish, you’d love it. Anyhow, it was very morose, how he hated that he lived in a world that didn’t accept gay people, like at all. I mean we have issues today, but the Spanish Inquisition had ended not long before all of this. Not a good time. And I knew that something in a few years would tip him over the edge, because he kills himself just a few years after these entries that I’m reading. Okay, so I may have been drinking or maybe I was just tired, I don’t know, but I bought some traditional pen and ink from the period. I told myself at the time that I would use that, and the loose pieces of paper that I found in the desk, for added color to my thesis, but instead I wrote a note, telling Castiel that he was not alone, that the world was changing. I was too chicken to sign my name though, and only signed it with ‘D’.” He barely paused to gather his thoughts. “So, here’s where it gets weird.”_ _

_ _“Here, really?” she raised an eyebrow at him._ _

_ _“Shuddap. You want me to say the whole thing is weird, yeah, the whole thing is weird. But you know what, I’ll do you one further, because here really is where it gets weird. I went back up to the main bedchamber and put the letter in the hidden compartment in the desk, where the journals had been. Of course, I promptly forgot about it until the next morning when I found this.” He opened the journal to the right page. He looked up at her face, “Uh, do you read Spanish?”_ _

_ _The glare that he received from Charlie answered his question. “Dean, I’m missing precious guild time for this. Please just tell me what you found.”_ _

He rolled his eyes at her, dejected that she had not become enthralled with the story so far, but he continued on. He cleared his throat and found where the passage after his first note started. _“I have been discovered!_ Blah, blah, blah… _As per my usual, I locked this journal in my writing desk, a desk that I alone possess the key to, and in a compartment that also is secret as well. I had been too presumptuous to assume that a determined person could not find the secret out, perhaps. None of that matters, because a few days after that entry, I sat down to write another entry and found a note atop my journal.” _

_“Although, or perhaps because it is only signed with an initial, I have no earthy idea who the note came from. It has buoyed my spirits immeasurably, and I cannot explain why. The man, I only assume it is a man, it could as easily be a female maid or some such that has access to my chambers, struggles with the same ideals that I do. The idea that I am not alone is so tantalizing, that the world is changing to be something that will accept us. I must not obsess of the mysterious ‘D’ any longer, I find myself examining every man whose name begins with the letter to see if they could possibly be him!”_ He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her reaction. 

_ __ _

__

_ _She chewed her lip hesitantly. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s very coincidental.” Dean threw his hands in the air and turned around. “Dean, Dean, come on! Things like this just don’t happen. _ _

_ _He turned back towards her and grabbed her hand in his. “I know, I know. But I went back and checked the next day, the letter I wrote was gone.”_ _

_ _“That doesn’t prove anything, though.”_ _

_ _“Okay, I get what you’re saying I really do, but I tested it.”_ _

_ _“What do you mean? How could you test it?”_ _

_ _He scrubbed a hand down his face, “I…um…wrote a second letter.”_ _

_ _“And?”_ _

_ _“So, I apologized for reading what should have been his private thoughts, basically invading his privacy, assuring him that his secrets were safe. Just a few lines of encouragement, that sort of thing. I put it in the desk, like the one before, and it was gone. This  
evening when I got home and read the journal, there was another entry.” He opened it again and read the next entry that Castiel had wrote. When he was finished he closed the book and looked at her seriously. “Say something.”_ _

_ _She opened her mouth to talk once or twice before words came out. “This isn’t a joke, right? You’re not sucking me into some ridiculous story then you’re going to spring it on me that you’ve been pulling my leg this whole time?”_ _

_ _He looked at her face and saw the tears form in her eyes, “Charlie, no! I thought maybe someone was pranking me, but there’s just no other explanation for it! I had the journal in my pocket all day, there is no way that someone else could have added to it, plus it’s all in the same handwriting and there’s no room to cram in another entry, it just wouldn’t fit. It would have had to already been there. Which means—”_ _

_ _“—That you’re interacting with someone that died 500 years ago. Holy shit!”_ _

_ _“Exactly.”_ _

_ _“What are you going to do?” _ _

_ _Dean ran a hand over the back of his neck, “I don’t know, I mean, what do I even do with this?”_ _

_ _“Dean, heaven or whatever, has given you a gift. Until you can’t anymore, I would write letters. I mean, obviously don’t tell him where you’re from or that you’re from the future. Especially if he thinks you already might be the devil, or a demon. Demon Dean, I like it. We should get you black contacts for Halloween.”_ _

_ _“Red!” he growled. “You believe me though, right?”_ _

_ _Charlie shifted from one foot to the other, “I don’t know, it’s all too weird to just dismiss it out of hand, though.”_ _

_ _Dean nodded stiffly, “Don’t know what I’m going to do if he won’t read my letters because I’m a demon, though.”_ _

_ _“Dean-mon,” Charlie snorted. _ _

_ _“Right, Dean-mon.” he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her tight._ _

_ _

_ _Sam and Sarah were set to arrive Friday around noon and stay through Monday morning. Sarah was enthralled by Castle Novak, and busy telling the two brothers everything she already knew when they bumped into a red-faced Zachariah Alder storming down the hallway. He man charged up to Dean, finger waging to his face, when Gabriel appeared behind them and grabbed the man’s arm. “Get out, Zach, without any unpleasantness, and I won’t call the fucking cops. You can claim that you’re taking your early retirement, or whatever, just don’t ever fucking come back here.”_ _

_ _Alder looked back at Gabriel with eyes bulging and his comb-over sticking up from his red-splotched head, looking ready to murder his cousin. Gabriel stood there like an avenging arch-angel, unearthly in his stillness and contempt for him. Zachariah Alder ducked his head and nearly fled from the spot as if he had wings. When Dean turned back to Gabriel, the thunderous aura had simmered, and he seemed nearly the jovial trickster that Dean knew him to be. “Son of a bitch has apparently been stealing from us for years. A few million at least that Jimmy can find.”_ _

_ _Dean’s eyebrows raised to nearly his hairline. “Wow, I knew the guy was a douche, but a thief?”_ _

_ _Gabe shook his head, “Jimmy’s pretty pissed. I mean, it was his recommendation that we hire Zach because of his connections. I mean that’s how you got the job, Dean-o.”_ _

_ _Sarah piped up, “Well, my dad wasn’t too fond of the guy, either. He only reached out to Zachariah because I asked him to, otherwise.” She shook her head. “I think he was actually driving away business.”_ _

_ _Gabriel finally noticed Sarah and Sam, sizing them up—Sammy especially. “Well, heeelllo, tall, dark, and moose-like.”_ _

_ _“Gabe!” Dean shouted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is my brother, Sam and his fiancé Sarah.”_ _

_ _“Enchanté.” Gabriel nearly purred as he took her hand and kissed it._ _

_ _“Can you be serious for like five minutes?” _ _

_ _“Dean, may I remind you that I was just serious for a solid…” he checked his phone, “twenty minutes while I fired Zach. I think I have performed admirably today.”_ _

_ _Dean chuckled, “Fine, alright. See you at the Roadhouse tonight?”_ _

_ _“Kali and I wouldn’t miss it.” He slipped a lollipop into his mouth, grinning like an idiot._ _


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes new friends, including a new, special kind of friend.

The roadhouse ended up being exactly the type of establishment that Dean knew he would frequent more often. A half an hour into their beers, laughter and mild teasing flowing freely, the owner stopped by their table to get their dinner orders.

“Ellen! What are you doing working the floor tonight?” Charlie asked.

The older woman with light brown hair smiled when she saw the red-head. “Jenna’s kid is down with chicken pox, and Nan’s already off this weekend because her family was in town. That leaves just Jo, Ash, and me to cover. You guys celebrating something?”

Charlie’s smile only grew when she slung her arm around Dean, “This is my new BFF, Dean Winchester. He’s interning at Castle Novak. The giant is his brother, Sam, and the pretty lady next to him is his fiancé, Sarah. Those two are up visiting Dean, who I’m doing my best to convince to stay past the summer.”

Dean ducked his head as he chuckled, “I’m resisting so far, red.”

“Sam and Dean Winchester? Like John Winchester’s boys?”

The color drained from Dean’s face and he exchanged looks with his brother. “Yeah, that’s, um…John’s…our father.”

Ellen’s face hardened. “The two of you anything like him?”

Sam reached over to grip Dean’s wrist, “I’d like to think not. But then, we haven’t spoken to him much in the last few years.”

Ellen pursed her lips, “I met you two before, I think. I don’t know if you remember, it would have been a long time ago, at Bobby Singer’s before he moved outta Sioux Falls. Wish I knew what happened to that old son of a gun.”

“Bobby moved to California.” Sam offered, his voice still shaky.

Ellen grinned, “No shit? Well, we was always complaining about the winters there in South Dakota. Especially after Karen…Well, I guess I’ll have to look him up there.”

Dean cleared his throat, “I could give him your number, he’s sort of my boss.”

The tilt of her head reminded him of someone he couldn’t place. “Bobby’s your boss? I thought Charlie just said that you worked for Gabe here?”

“For the summer,” Dean shrugged. He was still somewhat frightened by the stern looking woman. “I work for Bobby’s garage in Santa Clara normally, when I’m home and in school. John wasn’t too keen on the two of us taking off like we did, but Bobby and a few others have made Palo Alto and Santa Clara home, you know.”

For the first time tonight, Ellen grinned, “Bobby always said, family doesn’t end with blood.” She took their dinner orders and made sure to check on them throughout the evening, even donating a round of drinks to their party.

The end of the night had Dean searching out the older woman, finding her at last cleaning out high ball glasses at the end of the bar. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he approached, his steps slowing considerably as he got closer. “Ellen?”

“What is it, boy?” she sat a glass down as she talked.

“You don’t…um…talk to John, do you?”

Ellen grimaced. “I haven’t spoken to John Winchester in a little over a decade and wouldn’t mind if I went another. I’m sorry to say that about your father, but…” she shrugged.

Dean took a deep breath, “Good. That’s…good. Him and I don’t really agree on a lot anymore. I’d rather not have a family reunion over here.”

Ellen’s eyes softened, “Oh, honey. John’s attitude about people is one of the reasons I haven’t seen him in so long either.” He nodded as she placed a hand against his arm, “Dean, your daddy, doesn’t define who you are.”

He reached up and took her hand in his, nodding. “Yeah, I know.”

“Now, go have some fun with your brother. We’ll talk soon, you’re here all summer, right?”

Dean grinned, “Yeah, I am.”

He sauntered back to the table after his visit with Ellen, feeling relieved. The jukebox had been fired up and Kali and Gabe were dancing with surprising grace. A blonde he now knew was Jo was talking to Meg, and Charlie was making out with Gilda on the dancefloor. Sam and Sarah swayed together, and Dean’s eyes swept the room before landing on an attractive dark-haired man who didn’t remind him of Castiel, _No, not in the least! _He chided himself. A man whose eyes were watching him back. He tipped the neck of his beer towards the man and he moved towards Dean.

“Quite the little get together you have going.” The man smiled, a faint cockney accent peeking through.

Dean laughed, hoping to get the thought of someone that was long dead, and he could never meet, out of his head. “Yeah, well, the moose is visiting…so.” He stuck out his hand. “Dean.”

The other man grabbed his hand to shake, not releasing it for a moment longer than necessary. “Mick. Buy you a drink?”

Dean lifted his bottle of beer. “I’m covered for the moment. But, um, stick around a minute, maybe I’ll change my mind.”

Mick grinned and took a drink of his own. Dean couldn’t help but think of what the man’s lips would look like wrapped around something else long and cylindrical. He choked on his drink slightly and Mick’s grin turned slightly predatory, as if he had read Dean’s thoughts.

Dean shook his head, surprised that he felt a measure of disappointment, “Not tonight, like I said, moose brother in town. Raincheck?” Dean pulled his cell out and slid it towards Mick. He gave the man a wink and took another long pull from his beer.

Mick picked up the phone, entered his own number, then sent himself a text to save Dean’s before walking away.

Dean picked up his phone and when he saw what Mick had saved his contact info under he started to laugh. “Sweet Ass.”

Dean was thrilled that his brother and Sarah had come to visit. He was especially glad that his incredible sister-to-be had insisted that they have at least a few hours that were just the two of them. She assured them that she was more than content picking Gabriel’s brain and checking out the art and architecture of the castle, she was an art student just as Dean was.

Instead of anything specific, Sam and Dean had merely hit the road in an aimless drive in baby. It had been too long since he had done much more than simply drive her around town and since all Sam really wanted to do was spend time with his brother this was the perfect solution. The leaves on the trees around the island were the deep green of summer, the sun glinting through. Dean felt more alive than he had in years.

“How are you doing, Dean?”

He turned to look at Sam, who was squinting at him. “Um, I’m good.”

Sam nodded, turning back to face the road. His face broke out into a smile as well. “You seem good. I mean here.”

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, I love working at the Castle. I know it’s just for the summer and all, but I’m learning so much. And now that Zachariah is going to be gone, it’s just going to be better.”

Sam’s head bobbed slightly, “You have friends already, too. I really like Charlie.”

“Do you have something that you want to say to me, Sam?” Dean’s brows were pulled together.

“We’re staying. In Connecticut, I mean. Law school is going to be over next year and there’s a firm that is doing some really great stuff. Sarah’s dad knows one of the partners and—”

Dean cut off Sam’s rambling. His own voice tight. “Good, Sam. That’s good. All you gotta do now is graduate and pass the bar.” He reached over and ruffled Sam’s hair.

Sam brushed Dean’s hand away. “Stop it, Dean. I’m trying to talk to you here.”

Dean sighed, “I know, Sam.” He rubbed his forehead with one hand. “I get what you’re trying to say, really.”

Sam watched out the window as the trees passed by. “Look, I’m sorry that I dragged you to California and now I’m dumping you there.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You did not ‘drag me to California’! I came out there because there was nothing left in Kansas anymore and I wanted a fresh start. And I got it. And if I hadn’t moved out there, you never would have met Sarah, and I would still just be a mechanic working in dad’s shop, too afraid to do anything more with a guy than the occasional handsy in the bathroom in O’Malley’s.”

Sam grimaced, “Thanks jerk, there’s an image I’m never getting rid of.”

The silence in the car weighed down on him for a moment. “I have thought about staying here, you know.” Dean mumbled.

“What?” Sam snapped his head back to look at his brother, a smile spreading on his face. “You weren’t going to say anything?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s just a thought at this point. But, yeah, like you said, I’m making friends. A lot more than I ever made in California, all I ever really made there is Benny and Sarah. I mean, Bobby retiring soon, so my choice would either be to find something in this field that paid enough to do just that or take over the shop. I don’t know many places that would hire a new grad _and_ would pay enough to live there, so it’s been stressing me out a little. I don’t want to go back to just being a mechanic. There are opportunities around here, and I’m making connections. I don’t know.” His hand ran through his hair, leaving spiky strands in its wake.

Sam grunted in agreement. “Do you think that what’s his name’s job is open? The guy Gabe fired yesterday?”

“Zachariah?” Dean blew a deep breath out of his mouth before shaking his head briefly. “I don’t know man. Man, I’ve never seen Gabe as mad as that. Maybe? I’ll let Charlie know I’m interested, maybe she could feel him out for me.”

Sam grinned at his brother, “So, who was that guy you were flirting with last night?”

“None of your business, bitch.”

“Whatever, jerk.”

A text notification woke him Sunday morning, his head still fuzzy from the quiet dinner he’d enjoyed with his brother and Sarah the evening before. _Maybe I’m getting old if I feel this shitty after a night out until midnight._ He thought to himself as the phone pinged again. Two messages stared him in the face.

_**The Queen:**_ I want to try something. You know, with a letter.

He groaned at the thought of dealing with that before his brother left the next afternoon. He shot off a quick text to her, putting her off a few days because of the visit. At least he wouldn’t sound like he was intentionally stalling, which he totally wasn’t.

The second text made him pause a minute, he remembered the cool grey blue eyes that looked so very different from the piercing ones in the painting of Castiel.

Besides, no one in real life would really have eyes as blue as Castiel appeared to have, that had to be artistic license, or whatever.

_**Sweet Ass:**_ I hope that you haven’t changed my name in your phone.

Dean smiled to himself as he remembered checking the guy out as he walked away, clearly what Mick had wanted. _**Dean:**_ Just thinking about your – face. ;)

_**Sweet Ass:**_ Of course. Would you like to catch a drink sometime?

Dean chewed on his bottom lip as he considered it. He had told Charlie that he wasn’t interested in dating, the break-up with Aaron still relatively fresh—although they had done it on fairly good terms. Just wasn’t going to work out for them. Much better than when Lis and him had finally ended things, the screaming and her throwing a glass something near his head as he stormed out. He was surprised none of the neighbors had not called the cops. She had been gone the next day when he came back, both her and Ben and all their stuff. They must have had friends on call to help, because there was not a trace of them in their two-bedroom apartment when he got home from work the next day. He had spent the next three days blackout drunk before Benny and Sam had busted in on him and forced him into the shower and then into fresh clothes. Sam spent the night and by the morning, he was already feeling like the vise had unscrewed just a tiny bit from around his chest and he could breathe. Four weeks later when he spotted her across campus, laughing on the arm of another man, the bands around his heart suddenly felt like they were gone. Instead of anger and bitterness, like he had expected, their eyes had caught for a second and he just gave her a nod of his head in greeting before walking on.

More than a year later, and 3,000 miles away, he still worried that anything he got into relationship-wise was some sort of reaction to the volatility of that one. Aaron had been the opposite of Lisa, calm and easy-going, hardly ever lost his temper. He let Dean take the lead on everything, including bed. Not to say Lisa had been dominating in the sack, but she was a force to be reckoned with and always pushed back. Dean wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but it wasn’t either one of those.

Maybe Mick would be different, he was certainly more available than a certain blue-eyed Spaniard that was currently haunting most of his dreams.

_**Dean:**_ I’d like that. Moose brother returns to the wild tomorrow. I’m free most evenings.

_**Sweet Ass:**_ What a coincidence, an evening just opened up for me. ;)

Dean settled in for the night and picked up the journal to read. He hadn’t done so the entire time Sam had visited, and he found his hand reaching for it the moment that they were gone. He quickly found his place at the next entry.

_5 May 1520_

_It has been a full month since my last journal entry. In part, because I know that you might still be reading, D. But mostly, it was my own fears and hesitation. There has not been a letter from you this past month, either. I do not know if that means that I threatened you off of writing to me again, or that the means in which the letters came to me has vanished. I do not believe that it was a natural occurrence, however, those letters in my desk. The more I considered it, the more I realized that the letters could not have come from someone here in the castle. That only leaves the possibility that they were left by some other—supernatural source. I do not <strike>think</strike> believe that you wish me harm, that you are a devil or demon sent to bewitch my very soul. Perhaps you are some other weary traveler on this land, looking to find a home. _

_In light of this, I have decided to turn back to writing in these books my thoughts and feelings. I have missed this outlet, almost as I have missed a friend. Weary traveler, are you a friend?_

Dean let the journal fall to his lap. “I am.” His eyes settled across the room at the pen and ink and decided to formulate a new letter.

_Castiel,_

_I have missed writing to you as well. The first letter, I had no hope of it getting to you. I wrote it with only the intention of putting the words out there, that somehow you would know or feel them. I don’t know that I believe in that, but a friend of mine does. That you speak the words into the universe and somehow the universe finds a way to bring them back to you. I think that in this case it may have been what happened. I wanted desperately to speak to you, an impossible wish, so I wrote the words down and placed them inside the writing desk where I found your journal. The next evening, I found you had answered me. _

_The second letter, I was not sure that you were real. I tested it the only way that I could, by writing that letter. The fact that you thought I was the devil, or a demon sent to beguile you made me very unhappy, because that meant that you would not write in these journals any longer and your words have become a constant companion to me. Yes, a friend. I have been a weary traveler for a very long time, longer than I care to admit. But the wind is blowing me here now, and it feels like home. _

Dean hesitated, the pen hovering lightly above the paper for a moment before he brought it down and signed his actual name, _Dean._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets some sexy times.

The Roadhouse was packed when he strolled in Tuesday night to meet Mick. There were nervous butterflies in his stomach that he was steadfastly attempting to ignore. He nodded to Ellen behind the bar before he spotted the man sitting at a booth, already nursing a pint of beer. Dean slid in across from him and wondered if this was a good idea, to meet in Ellen’s bar, but she seemed to have known his trouble with John and accepted it unblinkingly. Maybe it was something that he could have, a relationship with friends and family _and _a relationship with a man. Mick smiled as Dean picked up a menu.

“Did you want something to eat, too? I hear that Ellen’s bacon cheeseburgers are the best in the state.” Mick took a sip from his drink, never taking his eyes off Dean.

Jo breezed up to the table just then, “You bet your ass they are. You want me to put an order in for you guys?” she tapped the small notebook against her other hand as Dean glanced at the menu.

“You know, sounds great, medium rare. I’m starving.”

“Regular or garlic fries.” Jo poised her pen, ready for him.

Dean shot a glance to Mick with a crooked smile, “Sorry, man.” He turned his attention back to Jo. “Garlic fries, and an El Sol.”

Mick chuckled at Dean’s order, “Garlic fries and a bacon cheeseburger, medium, for me too.” He handed the menus over before turning back to Dean. “Maybe with us both ordering garlic it’ll cancel each other out.”

“Strategic thinking, I like that.” Jo dropped off Dean’s beer and he took a sip. “You never told me what you do for a living.”

Mick straightened his shirt, “I’m an editor.”

“You are a man of letters, then?” Dean thought back to one of his adventure comics when he was younger.

“I suppose you could call it that. Right now I’m tasked with a rather pesky writer that thinks that treasure hunting for antiques in New England is a more appropriate use of her time than meeting her deadlines, but they can’t all be a joy to work for.”

“Well, you never know. She might find a discarded Jackson Pollack or something. I hear that happens.”

Mick snorted as he laughed. “I have been dragged to more antique stores and estate sales than I can count, believe me, everyone is trying to do the same thing and it’s just not going to happen. What about you, Dean?”

Dean folded his hands and moved them to his lap. “Right now, I’m interning at Castle Novak, finishing my graduate thesis on the religious and secular symbolism in tapestries. Should be done by the end of summer and then I graduate. I was in California going to school and working as a mechanic to pay the bills before that, though.” He shrugged as he averted his eyes. He had never felt that Aaron had appreciated the hard work that Dean put in every day, doing work and school full time, but then Aaron had come from a well-off family that never had any financial insecurity to speak of.

Mick whistled low, “You worked and were going to grad school, that’s amazing. I never could have pulled that off.”

Dean escaped the compliment by their food arriving. The burger did indeed look amazing, so big he had to cut it in half to fit in his mouth. Their conversation took a hit as they devoured their food, but after they were through, Dean found himself talking easily with the man.

As they walked out, nearly two hours later, a pleasant hum in his blood from the company and the beer, Mick turned him and pressed his back against the Impala to kiss him. He pulled back after a second, gauging Dean’s reaction.

Dean grinned, “I guess the garlic wasn’t a problem after all.” He reached up and dragged Mick’s mouth back towards his own and kissed him back. Dean groaned as Mick’s body swelled against his, the warmth of one transferring to the other. Mick roamed a hand around Dean’s waist and pulled him even closer.

“Want to get out of here?” Mick asked, the words breathing in to Dean’s mouth as they kissed.

“Uh-huh.” Dean nodded and reached behind himself to grab at the door handle. “I’ll follow you.”

Mick took Dean’s face in both his hands and kissed once more before pushing Dean backwards towards the open door of the vehicle. “473 maple drive. Don’t get lost.”

Deans started Baby with shaking hands and looked for the other man and his car. A newer slick import pulled out of the lot, and he saw Mick’s face in the rearview mirror. He pulled in close behind, although the lateness of the evening proved to have little traffic. Dean was on pins and needles the entire drive and when he swung baby into the driveway next to the Audi, he nearly flung himself out the door towards the other man.

They tumbled through the door, after a few aborted attempts at the key ended in giggling and groping, and landed on top of each other on the hardwood floor. “Jeez, are you okay?” Mick asked Dean as he laid under him.

Dean rolled his hips slightly against Mick and gave him a cheeky grin. “Everything seems to be in working order.”

Mick stood and offered his hand out to help pull Dean off the floor. He grabbed Dean and pulled him forward as he stood, tottering Dean into Mick’s arms. “There now. All according to my evil plan.”

“See, strategic thinking.”

Mick backed away, pulling Dean by the hand towards a hallway. “Bedroom?”

“Fuck yes.”

The bed was smaller than Dean was used to, and it surprised him, even Aaron had a Queen-sized bed. This could only be a full. He let the thought drift away with the idea that it would be better for cuddling afterwards with, anyhow.

Mick kissed Dean again and Dean stopped caring about the size of the bed and began to concentrate on the warm sensations of Mick’s hand as it moved from Dean’s torso around, down his back, inching closer to the waist of Dean’s jeans.

“Yes.” Dean hissed into the kiss, his own hands moving to separate the tiny buttons on Mick’s shirt and slide his palms against Mick’s chest.

Mick grabbed at his own belt and made short work of it, his pants and underwear coming down in one motion. Dean ran a hand down, lightly grazing over Mick’s cock, feeling the man shiver under Dean’s touch. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and gave a tentative thrust with his fist. Mick’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. “God, you feel good.”

Mick moved forward, walking Dean backwards a couple steps until the backs of Dean’s knees hit the bet. “Lay down, Dean. On your back.”

Dean laid back against the bed and scooted up until he was fully onto the bed. Mick stared at him for a moment, the grey blue of his eyes nearly taken over by black. He reached forward and tugged Dean’s pants down and tossing them to the floor. “So beautiful, Dean,”

Mick climbed on top of Dean and crawled forward over him. The drag of their two dicks together made Dean moan loudly. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Dean kissed Mick again as he took both their dicks in hand and started to pump, reveling in the feeling of the slide. He skirted his thumb over the head, collecting the pre-cum and using it to lube his movements further. Mick’s hand closed over his and together they found a rhythm and Dean tumbled over, Mick following close after.

Mick lazily kissed Dean again as they laid there, hands still moving and drawing out the last of the aftershocks. Finally, Mick rolled off and stood, walking towards the bathroom. When he came back in, he flopped face first on the bed, before turning to Dean. “You’re welcome to stay if you want. There’s an extra towel in the bathroom.”

Mick’s eyes were closed before Dean could respond. He laid there another minute as Mick’s breathing quickly settled into a quiet snore. Finally, he rolled his eyes and shook his head before heading to the bathroom and cleaning himself up._At least I’ll be in my own bed before midnight tonight._He thought. Followed immediately by, _Fuck, I am getting old._

_20 May 1520_

_You call yourself Dean? I have not heard that name before, is it British like Baltazar? I confess that sometimes in your previous letters your language was—not of someone who speaks it naturally. Where did you learn to speak it? Perhaps I should not ask too many questions of you, I does not do good to wonder the mysteries of the universe too closely. Let me instead tell you more of the goings on here. _

_Baltazar is staying in London another two weeks and I am morose without him. It does not do to have someone hold so much of your happiness in their hands, but it is too late for me. What of you, weary friend? Does someone hold your heart as well?_

_Castiel_

Dean ignored the journal as he worked on the next few pages of his project. He had slipped on his timeline he had given himself and was now in danger of falling behind, all because of the writings of someone that doesn’t exist any longer. His phone pinged with a message. He glanced at the face, ‘Sweet Ass’ now replaced with ‘Dumb Ass’ as the contact info seemed appropriate the following morning. **_Dumb Ass_**: I would like to see you again.

Dean scoffed at the message. Probably looking for a booty call. _Then again, there’s nothing wrong with a booty call. _He vowed to let the message sit for a while as he continued with his project. He knew he shouldn’t sound so eager to get laid, probably.

He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand hard into his forehead, willing thoughts out of it. The conflicting signals he had received from Mick, although not really, he had just usually been the one doing the ‘just looking for a night or two’ thing and he wasn’t used to the other side. On the other side of his brain, he warred against the desire to write another letter to Castiel. How had his life come to this? The man that he was infatuated with was completely unattainable unless Dean somehow found a DeLorean, and the man that was available had turned out to be almost a British version of himself. He threw his pen down at his papers in disgust at himself. The chair scraped against the stone floor as he stood and marched to the box he had secreted the papers and ink in. At least there was one issue he could address.

_Castiel_

_Dean is an English name, although not as fancy as your Balthazar’s. You are also correct in your assumption that Spanish is not my native language. You are a very observant man, you never would have believed that a demon was temping you with a letter—at least for very long. _

_I also understand about the trust it takes to give your heart to another, mine has been shattered before, although it currently belongs solely to myself. Recently, however, I thought I had made advancement in my affections toward someone, but it seems the attraction was more one-sided that originally suspected. At least it was soon enough to not risk my heart again. _

_Dean_

The note was short, but it soothed the desire to communicate to the man. By the time he secreted the note in the desk, his mind had settled, and he found he could concentrate on his thesis again. _This was going to be the death of me._He thought to himself.

Friday night, Dean found himself perched at the bar of the Roadhouse once more, already two pints back by the time ten o’clock hit and Charlie and Meg could join him. They settled into a booth and Dean tipped two more beers back sitting there laughing with his friends. When he wobbled his way to the bar to order another round, he felt a hand on his arm, stopping him. Mick.

“Avoiding me?”

Dean grinned at the Brit, he really was rather charming after all. “Nah, man. I just got behind at work. Want to join us for a drink?”

“You look like you’ve already had a few.”

“Pssst.” Dean waved off. “Not driving.”

“Of course.”

“You have pretty eyes, Mick.”

The other man smiled. “So do you, Dean.” He looked Dean up and down pointedly before turning and walking towards the back of the bar where the bathrooms were.

Dean followed, already half hard. When he opened the door to the bathroom, Mick grabbed him and shoved him into a stall, kissing him fiercely, Dean back pinned against the stall’s wall. Mick’s hands moved quickly to Dean’s belt, unfastening it and opening his jeans enough to pull his quickly swelling cock out. He was on his knees a moment later, taking Dean in all the way to the hilt as Dean knocked his head back into the stall wall, one hand finding its way into the longer strands of Mick’s hair to grab onto and use to help thrust into. It was the fastest, dirtiest blow job Dean had ever received, and he was coming in Mick’s mouth sooner than he would have thought possible.

He stood for a second as he tried to catch his breath, until Mick stepped up in front of him, lips slightly swollen from the abuse, hair in every direction. Mick kissed him roughly and he could still taste himself. “Next time, call me.” He stepped back, ran a hand through his hair to adjust it, and left Dean collapsed against the stall of the bathroom.

By the time he made it out of the bathroom, a full five minutes later, Meg and Charlie were already settling their bill and grabbing their things to leave. Meg spotted Dean before he could duck out and call and Uber. “Hey, moron. Where the hell did you go?”

He hurried over to the table, not wanting to yell over the crowd. “Geez, say it a little louder, why don’t you. I don’t think they heard you back at work.”

“Dean,” Meg tilted her head to look down her nose at him, mocking him. “Did you go have sex in the bathroom?”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, “What? No! Why would you say that?”

Charlie chuckled and flickered her eyes to where Mick had wandered off to. “Uh, because you followed that guy into the bathroom, and when _he_came out, he looked like the cat that got the canary. _You_look like you got fucked in the bathroom.”

He pointed his finger first to Charlie, then to Meg, “We are done here, do you understand me?” before grabbing his leather jacket and rushing outside to wait for his ride, the sound of the women’s laughter ringing behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes decisions, but time is obdurate.

The next month followed much the same pattern. Letters to Castiel where Dean told him of the life he led and the people in it—in the vaguest terms to not affect the future _(er, Castiel’s future/ Dean’s past, it was all too complicated in his brain sometimes)_, and the subsequent journal entries, solidified the man’s place in Dean’s heart, while here in the present he had what couldn’t really be called a relationship with Mick Davies, just reoccurring sex with the occasional dinner thrown in. He wasn’t sure what to call their relationship either, something more than a booty call but less than a relationship. He couldn’t say ‘friends with benefits’ either because they weren’t friends. All of it left his heart and mind confused.

It wasn’t until midway through July that he found the entry in the journal he was waiting for:

_27 September 1520_

_I am bereft. Baltazar has fled, never to return at Michael’s threat. Disastrous, traitorous heart. I shall never recover I believe. Not only has Michael discovered the truth in Baltazar’s and mine relationship, he came here to shed light on the fact that Baltazar was not even what he purported himself to be! Wicked, wicked, lies. _

_I must tell you the events, I must try to make sense of it. Baltazar and I met when I went abroad for schooling. I was younger than many, having attained much in my studies earlier than some of my contemporaries. My father and mother encouraged me to excel in my studies as I mastered them, rather than wait for others to catch up with me. Thus, when I began at university I was already a year or two younger than many of my fellow students. A year or two younger and much more sheltered. Baltazar and I became friends, although he was two and a half years my senior. It was perhaps this reason that I first began to have feelings for the man. He became my constant companion and my dearest friend. Of course, I told him the stipulations of my inheritance, by that time my father had passed, and Michael had become executor. My education could not be affected by Michael, nor could he spend the vast majority of the funds. I would come into the monies when I became of age, not until thirty, or until such time that I married. I believe my father thought it an encouragement for me to marry early. I don’t think that it occurred to him that I would not be interested in taking a bride at all. _

_Balthazar has been travelling to the Castle these five years hence, with the guise to the world that we are simply great friends and he wants to enjoy the Spanish countryside that he yearns for. I have been supporting the man’s lifestyle discretely all the years, my brain explaining that we do these things for the one’s we love. Now for the dual blow. First, our affair discovered. My uncle, Michael and Lucien both, arrived most unexpectedly two nights ago. Baltazar and I were found in a compromising situation, words cannot explain my horror at being seen—and by someone who thinks that the love that we would share is abhorrent. That would have been enough, Baltazar would have been banished from the estate, never to return simply for defiling the name of ‘de la Mancha’ for this transgression, but it is so much worse. Michael did suspect something in the nature of our relationship, although he thought it simply an older man misusing his authority over a more naïve friend. He discovered and came here to show me that Baltazar, who professed his undying and faithful true love to me on more than one occasion, has a wife already. He machinations were nothing more than a ruse to attain more money and favor from a vulnerable person. _

_I am afraid, weary traveler, that my heart might not recover from this. _

Dean sat back in shock. Nothing he had read so far had prepared him for the words that he had read. Although he had known that something had caused Baltazar to flee back to England, Dean had always assumed that it had been a simple matter of the two of them being caught. Dean flipped the page before it had even occurred to him that he could offer words of encouragement.

_13 October 1520_

_Two weeks have passed since the betrayal and uncle Michael had left for Seville, although Lucien remains. Lucien was always the cleverer of the two twins, cunning and somewhat ruthless. It was he that told me of Michael’s plan to bleed my inheritance dry slowly. All his posturing about my finding a bride these some years have been simply a façade. He brought proof as well, gambling debts, and loans sworn out in Michael’s name from most of the lending houses in Seville. I don’t know how I shall fight him. _

_However, I am not alone, as you once told me. My Anna has returned to me, Hannah as well, and they have promised to help see this through to the end. The day is brighter now that my friends have surrounded me. _

Dean chewed his lower lip trying to decide if he should tell Castiel of Anna’s fate. He worried that he could not change it, that it would be a fixed point. That if he warned them of her fate, he would save her from the earthquake only for her to fall from a horse and hit her head, something like that. Perhaps he had watched too many science fiction shows. He checked Google to figure out when exactly she died. September 22, 1522, an earthquake rocked Almería, killing more than 1,000. Among those dead, Anna de la Mancha and three unnamed servants. He had time to decide.

He took a deep breath and attempted to say what he felt he need to say.

_Castiel,_

_I am heartbroken for you that Baltazar has betrayed you in such a way. There are no words that I can say that will make the feeling of this lessen. Reading of your love had given me a sense of hope, but if that was his true heart, then you are better for him being gone. Let your friends be a balm to your broken heart. I am but a turn of the page away as long as I can be, and even after my letters stop reaching your door, know that I am still with you on your journey. You do not travel with empty hands, because you hold my heart in those hands._

_Dean_

The next few weeks were even busier for Dean, between attempting to finish his thesis, which looked just about there, and actual work around the castle he had been running himself ragged. He had barely had enough time to meet up with Mick once or twice to have less than enthusiastic sex. Dean wasn’t sure whose fault it was, or if it was just a fault of them both being busy that the dynamic sex that they had at first had trickled to something routine. Although it still scratched the itch that Castiel had created, if it didn’t occupy the hole in Dean’s heart.

Castiel’s loveless marriage to Anna had taken place, although he supposed that had happened all along. This reaching back through time thing was messing with his head. They both seemed content, although not entirely happy. Anna’s maidservant, Hannah, had taken the news of the marriage badly, apparently, and even though she was assured that their vows were for society’s sake only, she had returned to the town she had come from and Anna was desolate.

Near the end of July, as Dean headed back from town and a much-needed visit with Charlie, he found himself on a stretch of road that actually gave him a few minutes of peace to think. He was not being fair to Mick. If he was going to be spending time with him, and he really did like the guy a lot, he should not be investing himself emotionally in Castiel, even if nothing could ever come from it. He should let Castiel know that he wouldn’t be writing any more letters and he was going to concentrate on what was right in front of him. About the time that he came to this decision, a deer jumped in front of his car and he jerked the wheel to the side to avoid hitting it. The Impala ended up in the ditch on the side of the road. He had just enough battery life in his cell to call a tow truck, but not a ride home. He hoped that the driver would either have a spare charger or let him use his cell or something.

It was nearly an hour later, and the sun was dipping past the treeline when a guy finally pulled up to drag baby out of the ditch. Another half an hour to get her situated on the truck. By that time, Dean’s phone had completely died, and he couldn’t even look up a number and the guy didn’t have a charger that matched. He did, however, offer to drop Dean off somewhere so that he didn’t have to walk now that it was getting dark. Dean took it as a sign and had the man leave him in front of Mick’s apartment building. He knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer. He could see Mick’s car out front, so he knocked again. When there was still no answer, he put his ear to the door and listened, the heavy bass from the music would have drowned out Dean’s knock. He tried the door handle, it was unlocked. He cautiously walked through the door and headed towards the noise. The deep thumping of the bass was joined by another thumping noise Dean was fairly sure he recognized. He moved closer and pushed the door to the bedroom open. Mick was pounding into the woman Dean had been introduced to in the beginning as his client, the writer Bela. The woman that he continually complained about because she wasn’t doing her work, he was nailing her from behind. He barely heard the words, “Fuck, baby, you’re always so good to me, love you so much” Being growled out by the man that had been fucking Dean like three days before, never any mention of anyone else.

Rather than confront the two, he turned and slipped out the hallway, only when he was leaving through the front did he let the door slam behind him. He didn’t care if he never saw the bastard again, but he was definitely blocking his number when he managed to charge his phone. He thundered down the road, heading back into the main area of town towards the one place he knew he could find a friend, Charlie’s

By the time he returned home, his phone finally charged thanks to his friend, it was well after midnight. He flopped into bed. His body was exhausted, but his mind was still wide awake. He turned in his bed and spied the journal on the bedside table where he had left it. He grabbed it and flipped it open to the next entry.

_28 August 1522 _How had it gotten so far without him noticing it?

_Anna and myself are fighting once again. It seems silly to think that we would argue as a married couple far more than when we were simply friends, but it is the truth. She resents being forced to make this choice, although it was her idea—I dare not mention that. _

_Perhaps it is simply that Hannah did not return to her as we had hoped, and she wishes to blame someone for it. That is likely the truth of it, but also Michael has not left us alone as we had wished. The gambling debts that Lucien made me aware of have not gone away, and Michael has developed a menacing air about him. I do not wish to allow Anna to attend to the market if I know he is about, but that makes her even more snappish if I try to control her. _

_Perhaps it is best that autumn is approaching. It seems the hottest months make for short tempers. _

Dean read the entry once, then again once more. It was only a month from the time that Anna was killed in the earthquake. He must do something! Even if it only delays her death by moments, or hours, he has to attempt it. He took out one of the final pieces of paper he had remaining to scribble out a warning.

_Castiel,_

_What I must tell you will be difficult for you to believe, I scarcely know what to say. But I must try. Even if you do not believe, please, for the sake of whatever friendship you might feel for me, please do what I say. In just a few weeks, on September the 22nd, there will be a terrible earthquake where you live. The earthquake will tear down most of the city of Almería, and at least 1,000 people perish, including Anna and her servants that had accompanied her. I know this because I am from the future. The desk that you write on now sits in the master’s chamber of Castle Novak, but the chambers are empty because there is no master. You have been long dead a well. I understand if you believe that I am an evil demon and your soul is in danger after what I have just told you, that you will never write to me again. If it comes to that, I can live with that if you only do as I ask and don’t let her leave the house on September 22!_

_Your friend,_

_Dean_

As soon as the ink was dry, he raced up the stairs to place the letter in the desk. As he reached the landing between the first and second floors, he caught the first whips of smoke. He paused there on the stairs to figure out its direction, but before he could the lights went out and there was blinding pain on the back of his head.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attack, the fire, and the fallout

When he awoke, his hands were tied behind his back and he smelled gas. There was liquid on the carpet, he sniffed and realized that he was lying in gasoline. He struggled to sit, but before he could get his bearings, he was pushed over with a foot onto his back, his arm wrenched painfully behind him. “Hey there, faggot. Good, you’re awake.”

Dean’s eyes were still blurry, but he thought the man standing over him was Zachariah, although he had lost weight and looked considerably greasier.

He shook his head to clear it. “Zach?”

The man sneered and backhanded Dean across the face. Dean tasted a small drop of blood bust from the cracked lip. “You don’t get to call me that, bitch.” Zachariah wheezed and poured more gasoline around the room. “You’re the one that cost me my job!” his eyes were shining as his voice raised unnaturally.

Dean took a breath and tried to stay calm, although the amount of gasoline the man was pouring around, the room was going to go up like a Roman candle. “Za—Mr. Alder. No. I would never. You were a great boss.”

“You are an abomination against God! Why should I believe you?” He sneered into Dean’s face.

Dean coughed as the fumes filled his lungs, “No, I wouldn’t lie to you!” At this rate, it wouldn’t matter if Zachariah struck a match or not, the lack of oxygen was pulling him under. Right as he slumped to the ground, he saw the lit match fall from Zachariah’s fingers, but before it could even hit the ground, the appearance of two large, tawny-gold wings obstructed his vision. Dean’s last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness was that Gabriel’s wings were amazing.

Beep, beep…beep, beep…beep, beep.

The steady noise of a machine drug Dean out of slumber for a moment, his eyes opened to see his brother and Sarah huddled together with their backs to him, talking to a man in a white coat. Sam was nodding, but his head was drooped. Before he could think much of it, he drifted back to sleep.

The second time he awoke, Gabriel and Kali was sitting next to the bed, but Sam and Sarah were nowhere to be seen. He was able to open his eyes wide enough to be noticed, Gabriel jumped up to stare at him. “Dean-o! You’re awake! Do you want me to get the doctor?”

Dean waved a hand away. “What--?”

Kali took one of his heavily bandaged hands in hers. “Zachariah broke in and set fire to the wing. Somehow he knocked you out and had grabbed you in there, too. Do you remember any of this?”

Her eyes bore into him. As she gazed at him, she seemed to shift. She was still standing there, but another her flashed to the side and back into her before he could blink. He could have sworn that the other her was blue and she had eight hands. The vision, of whatever was gone by the time he blinked.

He tried to glue his eyes open at least half the rest of the visit and had managed to convince himself that what he had seen was an incredible hallucination from the drugs the hospital was giving him. He was about to let them call the doctor and nurse in when he began to droop his eyelids shut again. “Shush now, Dean.” Kali whispered as she bent over his ear. “You’ll be meeting your dear Castiel, soon enough. What good is having a Goddess and an archangel here if they can’t even bend the rules of time and space. You’ll drift off again, and when you wake up next time, Sam and Sarah will be here waiting for you. Don’t fret, dear boy, you won’t remember this at all.”

She stood and raised her head to look back at Dean, who was watching her with a crazed look on his face. A minute later, however, he rested his head against the uncomfortable hospital mattress and drifted back to sleep.

By the next day, he had woken up fully already once, only to be poked and prodded by the nurse and questioned by the doctor, the police, and finally Sam and Sarah. Now he was quietly chewing his nasty hospital food while Charlie filled him in on what had actually happened. “So, Zachariah, apparently had gone mental after he got fired. He looks like he had been stealing for years and would have gotten away with it had it not been for Jimmy finding those discrepancies. That’s why he’s been out of the country all summer, is what I’m hearing. Had to go back to Spain for original documentation or something, anyways. Jimmy gave Gabe the heads up and, well you were there when he let him have it, you know how well that went down.”

“Does this story have a point, or was Zach just bonkers?” Dean forced another scoopful of scrambled ‘eggs’ into his mouth and chewed the rubbery substance.

Charlie didn’t even side eye him for the remark, “Anywho, Zach stole something like five million from them, and they weren’t going to press charges, just as long as they never saw him again, and he never tried it again with anyone else. I guess that wasn’t good enough, though.” She grabbed his hand in hers. “Dean, I need you to look at me.”

He stopped chewing and set his fork down, frowning. “You’ve kind of got me spooked, Red.”

She brushed her hair out of her face, “Well, this whole thing has me spooked. The police,” she took a deep breath and blew it out. “the police went to his apartment. He’s been following you. They think since he was fired, rambling notes about how it was all your fault, pictures of you with the eyes burned out, crazy shit.”

Dean shrank back in the bed. “But he’s dead, right? They said he got caught in the fire. Gabe could only save one of us and I was closer to the door, that’s what Gabe said!” his voice climbed higher as he got to the end of his sentence.

Charlie stood, her hands pressing down on his chest, holding him down gently. “Whoa, big guy, calm down, or that nurse is going to have my hide.” She looked out the door and back towards the nursing station before turning back to Dean. “Yes, he’s dead. You don’t have to worry.”

Dean settled back into position, willing his heart back down to a normal pace before he set off the monitor. “How did Gabe know Zach had me in there, anyways?”

“Camera hidden in the rooms.” Gabe appeared in the doorway. “Jimmy had them installed after Zach was let go as a security precaution. Motion sensor started the camera, which sent an alert to Jimmy. He checked the feed and called me.” He shrugged. “Another damn thing he was right about.” He whispered under his breath.

Dean’s mouth hung open, before snapping it shut with a click and glancing over to Charlie. He started to speak once more. “Motion sensor camera in the room? How long…um…what would he look for in something, you know that was suspicious?” He picked at the threads of the sheet covering his legs, not meeting Gabriel’s eyes.

Gabriel grinned, “Well, he sure wouldn’t care about someone writing letters and tossing them _in _the old desk. He was more concerned about someone taking stuff _out_.”

Dean blushed but nodded.

“What were you doing there, Dean-o?” Gabe’s grin grew wider, as Dean refused to meet his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it, ‘swas stupid.”

Gabe patted Dean’s feet at the end of the bed. “Fine, but only because you are in the hospital.”

Sam rushed into the room, the police officer, detective Hendrickson trailing behind him. “Hey, Dean.”

Dean turned his attention to Hendrickson, “Sam, Detective. You have news?”

The man smiled. “I said, call me Victor.” He took some notes from his jacket out. “Now, Dean, you tell me that Alder was your supervisor at Castle Novak?

Dean nodded before relaxing his head back onto the bed, “Um, yeah, before the Novaks fired him, I mean. Mainly, I helped with any upkeep and restoration of the art in the Castle, and there is quite a bit. I had a good deal of autonomy, so some days I wouldn’t see him at all, though.”

“And when you were working, how did you perceive your relationship?” Hendrickson looked up from his notes.

Dean shrugged, “I couldn’t say one way or the other. I mean, I thought he was kind of pompous, but that kind of goes with the territory. I was…made aware…of his opinions of people like me, so I didn’t really talk to him much.”

“People like you?” Hendrickson’s eyebrow raised.

Gabe spoke up from the back of the hospital room. “Zach had made comments about homosexuals that would just skate the side of acceptability. I mentioned it to Dean because the topic came up in conversation when we first met.”

Hendrickson turned back to Dean, “And you are gay?”

Dean’s chin lifted, his eyes hardened. “Bi-sexual actually, not that it matters.”

Hendrickson’s hand went up in surrender, “No, just trying to get the whole picture. Do you think Zachariah was aware?”

Dean let out a deep breath, “I don’t know if he did while we worked together, but he certainly had figured it out. He…kept calling me faggot…and abomination during the attack.” Dean’s eyes went to his bandaged hands.

Sam grabbed his shoulder and gave him brief nod. Hendrickson closed his notebook. “Well, I think I have what I need here for now. It’s a formality really, since he’s dead, but I may have to speak to you again, once you’re out of the hospital.

“Yeah sure,” Dean replied dazedly. He looked at Sam, “What the hell?”

Sam threw his hands up. “I know. Look, I’ll get out of your hair and let you get your rest.”

Victor waved as the two of them left Dean alone once again with only Charlie. “Jesus Christ, is everyone here fucking nuts?”

Charlie sat up straighter, “Well, I’m certifiable, but only in the best ways.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a journal. “Hey, I know that that desk was completely destroyed, so you can’t write to Castiel anymore,” She frowned. “At least, I’m pretty sure. I’m sure you never should have been able to in the first place. But I brought you the journal from your bedroom in case you wanted to…well. You know.”

She shrugged her shoulders as he nodded and motioned to the nightstand next to the bed. “Okay, I have to go to, I can only have Meg work so long before she threatens to burn down the place—sorry. My bad.” She sucked her lips into her mouth to keep herself from embarrassing herself further.

Dean chuckled, “No worries, you’re fine. Go.” He nodded and was engulfed in a hug full of red hair and short arms.

“Look, I’m the one bending down to hug you this time!”

He wrapped his arms around his friend and squeezed her tight, the enormity of the situation hitting him.

“Hey, no chick flick moments.” He rumbled into her hair.

She leaned back, “I happen to know that you love chick flick moments.” She socked her fist lightly into his arm.

“Get out. Go rescue your shop.”

She waved at him one last time before she left the room and the silence engulfed him. Only the electronic monitors and their whirrs and beeps chipped away at the quiet. He turned the TV on low and found a station playing Scooby Doo before easing back. He looked at the book and sighed before dragging it over to open it. He dreaded the upcoming entry.

_15 September 1522_

_I awoke in the middle of the night with a feeling of horrible dread, my dreams fresh from the fires of hell! Anguish and burning but not for me as I flew through the carnage towards a bright soul, one of light splitting the darkness. Pain reached for me, my head still aches hours later, and I can still remember the kiss of the fire. But still I flew. There! In the midst of the horror, a righteous man stood against the darkness alone. Behind him, I landed for but a second, just long enough to grip him tight and raise him from perdition. Together, we flew higher and higher, others beside me fighting as well, but I alone reached the righteous man. Until finally we broke free and he was safe from the fire. You were safe from the fire. I do not know your face, but I am certain it was you! As certain as the sun rises every morning. Your presence gives me the hope to walk through the fires of hell. I would be lost without you. _

He turned the page, taking a deep breath when he registered the date as two days after the earthquake, and continued.

_24 September 1522_

_Anna is dead. As are Muriel, Ion, and Ezekiel. Hundreds lie dead or dying in the town and the road is impassable. I had hoped that they were merely trapped, unable to cross the way back, but the servant I sent on horseback has made his way back to me with news that he saw for himself the destruction. I do not know what I will do without her, without them. _

Dean laid his head back and closed his eyes, a tear slipping out at his friend’s pain, pain he wanted to help avoid. Another item in the list of things Zachariah had destroyed. He forced himself to lift the book off his chest and read more.

_18 October 1522_

_Where are you friend? Three weeks since Anna’s death, and nearly a month since word has come from you. I do not doubt that you would have attempted to console me once you knew what had transpired, so I must worry that our connection is broken as well. Perhaps the earthquake destroyed more lives than we know of. I will continue to write in this with the hope that one day you can return to me. Until that day, I am bereft. _

_5 November 1522_

_Michael is here. I cannot stand to look at him. He had left the grounds the day he was forced to relinquish control, the day of Anna and myself’s wedding, but would return when the creditors would press heavily into him. I hear his debts are increasing and he is desperate. He plays the role of contrite and respectful relative to the mourning spouse well, I must give him that. _

_I miss Anna more and more each day. Her laughter ringing through the castle walls made the building alive. I am consumed with the thought of adding to it, a monument to her that will stand the test of time. And you, weary traveler, I miss your notes as well. Those I cherish and secret away, rereading when I am morose and the guilt of letting her go into town threaten to eat me alive. I know that you would say that I should not be guilty, how could I have known? But I had been dreaming again, not just of the fire and hell that I wrote about, but death and destruction all around. It should have served as a warning. I kept my tongue however, I know too well the place the Church has for witches and heretics that pretend to know the future. Their place is on top of a bonfire and I would very much like to escape that fate. For Anna, if I had known for sure, I would have risked it however. _

_23 December 1522_

_The end of the year is almost upon us. Three months since I saw her face, and since I heard from you as well. I am truly alone now. I must have hope that the new year will bring new things and people to me. _

_17 January 1523 _

_The castle grows in size and it only hides the darkness invading my soul. All my friends have gone. _

_8 June 1523_

_I wander the empty halls like a ghost in my own castle. I have become a ghost. _

_23 July 1523_

_Today I turned thirty, what would have been a day of freedom from Michael, is just another reminder of my mistakes. I never should have agreed to Anna’s ridiculous plan. If I had not, she would have been at her home, Hannah would never had left, and she would be alive! It is all my fault, my fears got the better of me, even my weary traveler friend has fled my side. Gone like the rest of them! Not that I blame anyone, I’d leave me too. _

_29 September 1523 _Dean closed his eyes for a moment, the day Castiel dies.

_I have signed over the control of my accounts to my uncle Lucien. His son Jack is a fine boy and will make a wonderful steward for the castle. I have told my uncle that I am ill, and I don’t expect to live long. To look at me, you would see the truth. Where once I looked every bit the country gentleman, windswept and sunkissed, now there is grey skin and dark circles under my eyes. He has offered his personal physician, but there is nothing for me here. I am locking my journal inside the desk and heading out. For those few that I leave behind here, I am truly sorry. To Dean, my dear Dean, I believe now that you were never really of my time at all, and perhaps our souls shall meet in the future. A future where my heart tells me you live, not in this time. And so, our connection broken, unable to bridge the gap as we once did, I can only hope that you are still reading these rambling notes somewhere, sometime and that you can be happy, my love. That is what you became to me, what I realized only with your absence. That you are, indeed, my love. I love you, Dean. And I can no longer bear to live where you are not. _

_Castiel_

Dean closed the book and hugged it tight to his chest, the tears flowing openly now. He had hoped, somehow that the legend was wrong—that Castiel had not taken his own life. He would somehow figure out the truth, like he had about him being gay. But to know that he had, and Dean caused so much of the man’s pain, was too much for him to bear right now. The edge of his awareness noted a buzzer sounding, but he couldn’t listen to it. One of the nurses, Pam, bustled into the room and took in his state, her arms at her hips, “Didn’t the doctor tell you that you needed to rest, not get all worked up.”

Dean snapped his eyes to her, finally realizing someone was in the room with him. He sputtered. “Sorry. I just started thinking about…everything.”

She tutted. “Yes, well, your friends thought you needed to know. Far be it from the medical professionals to know when their patients need rest.”

Dean looked at the book he clutched tightly against him. “I’m sorry.”

“Hon, what have you got to be sorry about?” she slipped the journal from his fingers. “This will be in your belongings, darling. Now, I know that you’re going to get uneasy, but the doc thought you would do with something for the anxiety. Would you like me to get you a dose?”

Dean nodded.

“Okay, sit back. Don’t worry yourself a thing. It goes right in your IV here, so you won’t even notice and then maybe you can get some sleep.”

Dean was out of the hospital in three days. He sat on his bed for an hour before getting up the courage to go to the bedroom at the head of the stairs to check out the damage. He could see blackened walls as soon as he rounded the corner from the staircase. Missouri Mosely herself was ordering staff around to remove the debris. Her face lit up when she saw him. “Dean! How are you baby?”

She wrapped her arms around him, and he felt immensely better by just the one hug. “A little freaked out, but you know. Wanted to see for myself.” He let the words hang in between him.

Missouri harrumphed and turned back to the workers in safety suits picking through piles of charred material. “That detective only cleared it this morning, so it’s still a mess. They have declared it structurally sound, I guess that’s the good thing about stone buildings. But these whole three rooms are going to have to be gutted and redone. Such a shame. Jimmy was planning on taking this room for himself, you know.”

Dean scratched along his stomach, nervous at the thought of someone living in the room he had spent so much time in.

“I know what you’re thinking, boy.” She smiled at him. “You started thinking of this room as yours.”

Dean threw his hands up, “Is there anyone who doesn’t know?”

Missouri hummed, “Becky, but only because the girl is single minded and looking to find a husband rather than do her job.” She took her hand in his. “Dean, honey. Don’t worry about it. I can see in your eyes, your brain is going a mile a minute and none of it means what you think it means. Let what is meant to happen, happen. You should take the job Mr. Novak offered you, you would make a fine replacement for Zachar—hmm,” she drifted off for a moment as she caught herself on the name. “I’m sorry, sugar.” She rubbed his arm.

“I know, but I can’t, Missouri,” he pulled his hand back gently and pointed to his temple, “Too many ghosts.” 

The stood together in silence, each contemplating the changes and what it meant, Dean especially worried that the one Novak brother, Jimmy, had clearly seen him coming and going into the master bedroom and removing papers from, and placing letters in the desk. His brain unhelpfully forgetting that they had both given him permission to rummage around in the desk. He glanced to the corner where it once stood, now only a few charred pieces of wood remained.

“I’m going to go now.” He turned and fled from the woman back to the bedroom that had been his home for the past three months.

On his bed was his phone, a notification for a text on the screen from Gabe. **_The Trickster: _**Jimmy is back. It’s important for him to meet you. 10am tomorrow. My office.

Dean texted back an affirmative and immediately started to worry. _Guy probably wants a detailed explanation for the visits to the bedroom. It doesn’t matter what I tell him, I’m going to sound insane._He started pacing the room and running his fingers through his hair. The phone chimed again.

**_The Trickster: _**Don’t freak out either. I think he wants to make sure you don’t intend to sue ;)

**_The Trickster: _**You don’t intend to sue, do you?

**_Dean: _**No, I’m not going to sue. Why would you think that?

**_The Trickster: _** Because that’s what people do. I can be there if you want. Jimmy was pretty adamant that he talk to you alone. I’ll just tell him to fuck off, he’s my brother, I can do that.

**_Dean: _**If you say he’s okay, I’m sure it’s fine. Maybe just hang around?

**_The Trickster: _**Of course.

Dean was outside Gabriel’s office by 945 the next morning, even put on a pair of slacks and a button up and styled his hair like he was a grown up. Gabe stuck his head out at the sound of footsteps. “Hey there, cowboy.”

Dean gave a half-hearted wave. “Hey.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, he felt like he was being called to the principal’s office at school out of the blue.

Gabe stepped into the hall, “It’s fine, Jimmy’s early too. Both of you guys are so ridiculous. Now listen, my baby brother is, well he can be kind of intense. It’s the eyes, it’s like he doesn’t blink or something. Just be the same self-deprecating asshole you usually are, and you’ll win him over. And if that doesn’t work, just call him Cassie. Now just go on in and say hello.”

Gabe pushed him towards the door. Dean grabbed the doorknob and turned it to open the door, turning back to Gabe at the last second, “Why would I call him Cassie?”

Gabe popped a lollipop in his mouth, “Oh, Jimmy’s not his first name, he stopped using his first name in grade school because of the teasing. His first name’s Castiel.” Gabe shoved him through the open door only to see a man that was the spitting image of the portrait in the main gallery sitting at the desk, right down to the electric blue eyes. 

“Cas!” He gasped out.

A smile settled on the man’s face. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean stumbled into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I don’t…”

“Tell me, Dean. What do you know about reincarnation?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months later

Dean crowded into Cas’s space, embracing the man. “You look fantastic.” He placed a kiss under the earlobe as he tightened his arms around him. “I still can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

Cas turned in Dean’s arms to face him, a hand reaching up to trace his cheek. “I can’t believe I found you, either. I waited for you for so long.”

The two men hugged each other tighter, only breaking apart when someone knocked on the door. “Come in!” Dean yelled to the intruder. Cas went back to attempting to fix his hair in the mirror. They spent much of their time in the room that Dean had lived in for the summer, it had become their home now. Dean had a surprise for Cas later, however, for once they were done with the ceremony.

Charlie poked her head in. “Hey, your brother’s here, Dean. Time to start you brotherly Best Man duties.”

Dean grinned at the woman who had become his best friend in the past months. “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” She nodded and ducked back out of the room. Dean grabbed his jacket and slipped an arm back around Cas. “I’ll see you in there.”

Cas turned to kiss Dean on the mouth, they both were careful not to run their hands too much over each other or into each other’s hair. Sarah would kill them both if they had sex hair on her wedding day. “I love you.”

Dean’s face split into a grin, just like every time he heard Cas say that, “I love you too, handsome.”

The wedding ceremony was short. Neither Sarah nor Sam had been particularly religious, so most of what was left was simply their pledging their love to one another. Dean had not been thrilled to find out that their father had been invited. Wonder upon wonders, however, when John had shown up sober, with a new wife and a much more understanding greeting to Dean. They had managed to get through three whole days so far, and not a single derogatory aside. He hadn’t been sure about Kate when he first saw her, but he was firmly in her corner if she had managed to clean him up. His entire family was together in this room at the same time, Cas, Sam, Sarah, their Dad and his new wife, and their uncle Bobby. Benny even brought his girlfriend Andrea, and there were newer members like Ellen, Charlie, Gabe, and Kali and nobody had wanted to kill each other yet.

The reception had Dean and Cas finally dancing together after spending most of the day apart. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised to see Bobby slow dancing with Ellen, softer looks on their faces than he had ever noticed. Charlie and Gilda flowed together on the dance floor, and Gabriel was swaying with Kali—they were speaking too low for anyone to hear, however. Dean shivered when he stared at the two of them, a ghost of a memory that he couldn’t pin down. Wings? Blue?

“Hey, where did you go?” Cas nudged him while they danced.

“Hmm, no, just trying to remember something, but every time I try to grab hold of it, it slips away. That ever happen to you?

Cas’s blue eyes bore holes into him. “Dean, I was reincarnated again and again for 500 years waiting for your dumb ass. Yes, that has happened to me.”

“You like this dumb ass, though” Dean slotted his crotch forward so that he rubbed against Cas lightly.

“Mmm, not if you’re going to tease me like that all night.” Cas hooked his chin on Dean’s shoulder and nosed his neck.

“Not teasing. Fully intend to follow through.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Mister.”

A clanking on a glass got their attention towards Sam standing at the head of the stage the band had been playing on. “On behalf of Sarah and myself, I first would like to thank you all for coming.” The sound of mild clapping filled the room as Dean watched his brother, pride filling his chest. Cas slipped his hand into Dean’s as he stood next to him and gave a squeeze. “We would especially like to thank the Novak brothers Gabe and Cas for lending us this incredible venue. I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that Cas is dating my brother, everything was clearly on the level.” Cas gave Sam a small nod and a wink. “But seriously folks, I almost lost my brother to a crazy person just half a year ago, so to see him whole, and happy at my wedding is the best present he could have given me. Thank you so much for everything Dean.”

Dean stepped forward and hugged his brother, “I love you, bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam whispered to his brother. He turned back to the crowd. “I’m keeping the espresso machine, though.”

The party guests began to filter out, Dean had even managed a dance with his new step-mother. A hand to her stomach unconsciously a few times made him suspect that there might be another Winchester sooner than expected, and he was surprisingly okay with it. Cas slipped his arm into his and laid his head on his shoulder. “You want to go?” Dean asked, a kiss to the top of his head.

“Only if you do.” Cas smiled up at him.

“Sammy and Sarah took off an hour ago. I can say goodbye tomorrow.”

They made their way through the remaining guests, a few dancers were still having a good time out on the floor. “I don’t envy Missouri and the rest of the staff tomorrow.”

Cas yawned, “I gave them the day off, hired a crew just for that. No sense annoying the best head of household I ever had.”

Dean snorted, “You got that right.”

Cas began to walk toward their bedroom, when Dean pulled his hand in the opposite direction. “Come on, I have a surprise for you” He nodded his head in the direction of the stairs.

“Dean?”

“Just walk with me, if you don’t like it, it’s five minutes wasted.”

Cas trudged up behind Dean, “Only because it’s you.”

Dean pecked Cas on the nose and headed up the stairs. He was sure that Cas knew the workers were done revamping the damaged section, be he had made Cas promise not to go up there a look himself. They arrived at the double doors to the master bedroom. “Close your eyes.” Cas did as he was told.

Dean opened the door and led Cas into the room. It was done much as it was before, including a desk he had found with the help of Sarah and her father that was nearly identical to the one that had burned in the fire. A large canopy bed stood in the middle, and now state of the art plumbing resided in the en suite bathroom. It was truly spectacular. “Open your eyes, Cas.”

The sharp intake of breath made Dean hold his own for a moment, what if Cas hated it? All doubts were cast aside when the man wheeled around and started dotting Dean’s face with kisses. “I love it, love, love, love it!”

Dean placed his hands on Cas’s hips. “Well good, because I was thinking this could be our bedroom now. I mean, the one were in is fine, and if you want to stay there…”

“Dean!” Cas interrupted. “I love it.”

“Good because I was really hoping you would fuck me in that big bed over there.”

Cas’s eyes darkened as he ran his hands up and down Dean’s torso. “Mmmm, so good to me. Take off your clothes and get on the bed. Don’t touch yourself, though.”

Cas walked to the door of the bedroom and closed it, making sure it locked. Before turning around just in time to see the green lacy underwear Dean had on under his suit as the trousers hit the floor. “Second thought, keep the panties on for now.”

They both took their time removing their clothes, making sure the other had a good show, but still they hadn’t really touched each other. Dean crawled onto the bed clad only in the lacy garment, making sure his ass was on display.

“Dean Winchester, you’re going to be the death of me.” Cas stood naked next to the bed, his hand on his own cock which was already at attention. He climbed in next to him and framed the green-eyed man with his arms as he held himself over Dean, their cocks barely touching through the silky fabric. Dean widened his legs so Cas could settle between them.

Slowly Cas lowered himself so that their bodies touched each other from their heads down to their feet. Exploring each other with the hands as Cas plundered Dean’s mouth with his tongue. Cas reached inside the panties and grabbed around Dean’s impressive cock. Cas loved to be impaled on it some nights, but tonight Dean needed Cas inside of him, and soon before he exploded. The other surprise had kept him on edge most of the evening and he didn’t know how long he would last. Cas jacked him once, twice spreading the pre cum down the hilt, smoothing the strokes out and Dean felt like he could hammer nails he was so hard.

Cas’s hand let go of his dick and Dean groaned, half in relief, half frustration. His lover moved his hand back, first a quick caress of his balls, then to his—Cas’s head poked up to look Dean in the eyes. The smirking man could barely stop from laughing. Cas felt a slight buzz on his fingertips and Dean closed his eyes to collect himself before starting. “Been waiting for you to find that.”

Cas trailed a fingertip around the base of the plug. It was one of Dean’s bigger ones, one that hit his prostate whenever he moved, and it had a vibrator in it. “Dean.” Cas’s voice was even lower than normal, “Have you been playing with that all night?”

Dean shook his head. “Nuhg, I mean no. Sarah would have murdered me herself if I tried something like that.”

Cas kissed Dean’s collarbone, still not making any move to remove it. “When, pray tell, do you find time to put it in?”

Dean let out a moan as Cas pressed on the plug. “I slipped out, heh, after the toasts at the reception. Didn’t play with the remote though.”

Cas ran a hand down Dean’s arm to his closed hand, now noticing the remote control clenched there. “You were a very naughty boy, Dean. You know that all your orgasms belong to me now.” Cas slipped the lever on the remote up two clicks and pressed his cock down against Dean’s

“I didn’t come though. I got myself ready for you, but I didn’t come. Nugh,” his eyes closed again as a ripple of want surged through him. “Need you so bad.”

“Hmm,” Cas tugged on the plug, pulling it out so that the widest part was at Dean’s rim.

“Fuck, please. Fuck me Cas.” Dean was pleading.

“It would be a shame to waste all this work.” He let the plug slip back in to Dean’s ass. “Oops, slippery.” It was Cas’s turn for a cocky grin. Dean groaned again. “I do like all the pretty sounds I drag out of you when you are on edge like this though.”

Dean gripped Cas’s shoulder hard enough to leave half-moon marks from his fingernails as the man gripped the plug again and began to slowly drag it out. Dean barely had a moment to breathe when his legs were shoved against his chest, his panties were rucked up just enough to expose his hole and Cas thrust in to Dean in one solid motion. The plug and the lube had done their job and Cas only gave Dean a second to adjust before pounding into him hard. Dean grabbed his own legs and held on, he loved it when Cas’s rough side took over. He was being pounded just like he had planned, and he could feel his balls drawing up for the orgasm he was closing in on untouched.

“Do you like walking around with the plug and your pretty panties, Dean?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

“Made you ripe for me, I could just bend you over and fuck you wherever I wanted. You like that don’t you. Like people knowing you’re mine.”

Dean felt the satin drag against his dick, the wet spot from the pre cum spreading, he wanted to reach between them and help it along, but he knew that Cas was the only one that could pull it from him without. “Been yours all this time.”

Cas slowed down and started doing figure eights with his hips instead of thrusting, his prostate getting nailed at each pass. He moved between them, his hand adjusting Dean’s ass as he moved in for a kiss. The newer angle had Dean’s dick pressed between the two of them and his prostate being hit at the same time, their kisses turned into open mouths exchanges of air as Dean locked up and came hard between the two of them. Cas continued to fuck him, now slower as he became oversensitive in the aftermath of the orgasm. Then a hard thrust, and another, Cas raised up and spreading Dean’s legs wide open, “Fuck, yeah, so good. I want to feel you tomorrow, Cas. Want people to see it in my walk.” Cas thrust hard a few more times and then with the sound of “Dean!” on his lips, his hips stuttered, and Dean could feel him coming inside. Cas laid back down and kissed Dean again before rolling to the side.

“God, I love you.” They laid in each other arms for a few moments, before Cas stood and went into the bathroom, coming back a moment later with a washcloth, and cleaned them both up. He tossed it to the side.

“All your orgasms belong to me?” Dean quipped.

Cas blushed, “I’m sorry.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas. “Don’t be sorry, that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. I think you’ve got a bit of a dom side.”

“Well,” Cas kissed Dean’s clavicle, “I’m pretty sure you liked it.”

“The fact that you just cleaned cum off my chin tells you that.”

“Assbutt.”


End file.
